


Life Support

by MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Infection, Love, Minor Character Death, Negan - Freeform, Smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo/pseuds/MusicActorsBooksCharacters_xo
Summary: He'd raised you, bought you back from the brink of broken to a top survivor. Now, things have changed with war raging and a new life to protect, how far would you go to defend the ones you love?





	1. Eye Of The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lovely tumblr request from one of my favourite Negan fans! I really enjoyed writing it!

“This was a bad idea!” You whisper pressed hard against a freezer cabinet with legs so numb you’re not sure they’re even there anymore.  A pick up in the neighbouring _always_ welcoming community had turned into a blood bath in an instant, leaving two of theirs dead with a captive thrown in. A win but Negan had insisted the bullet maker show your small group the factory, unknowingly leading into the biggest heard of Walker’s you had ever seen since leaving Atlanta two years earlier. 

_“Please..” You spluttered, blood seeping between the cracks in your teeth.  You tried begging, pleading but the group just wouldn’t let up. So, you lay still, staring at the blackened sky as the wind tore flecks of paint from the crumbling buildings of the city; you were done.  It was your fault for trusting the strangers with hungry eyes and perhaps this was your punishment, one that in that moment you were ready to accept with open arms._

_But your body wasn’t ready to give up, lashing out with vicious nails at the fingers that hauled at your belt, ripping it from the bloodied jeans that pooled by your knees._

_“Get off ME!” You screech, drowning out the rumble of vehicles in the distance.  Scratching and flailing wasn’t enough, blood seeped from the wounds at your chest and bruises bloomed at your thighs. You barely moved, resigning to the cold hard fact that this was how it was going to end, until new ice cold greasy hands slid into your panties._

_The scream tore through you like a shard of glass. You felt your eyes widen and pulse push against the skin of your throat.  The scream came again, desperate, terrified… human.  All it did was anger the four men on their knees around your fragile body._

_There was a mutter of thunder from the dark sky like a funeral march._

_The violent crack of thunder was only a second behind the harsh squeal of breaks, dark voices and four screams that rivalled even your own._

_“Son of a bitch! Motherfuckers!”  You were fading, darkness pulling at the corners of your vision._

_With a pained groan you look up, a jagged bolt of white hot lightening splits the chilly sky illuminating the blood-stained barbs of a Louisville Slugger._

“A very fucking bad idea!” You breathe, drawing in a shaky lungful of air that soothed your overactive heart, it slammed against your ribs as the memories eased away bringing you back to the abandoned store and the man by your side.

“Fucking fuck!” The man growls, tugging at Lucille’s silvery barbs with a gloved hand.

“We gotta get out of here!”  The beginnings of panic are starting to set in, not to mention the groans and hungry moans of the cluster of dead clawing at the grimy windows, itching to tear flesh from bone.

“No shit sweetheart, but I can’t see a motherfucking way out of this shithole!”  You would have reprimanded him for the curses, but you knew he would just continue.  Your boss had never been one for subtlety, but you let it pass, forever grateful for the man that saved your life that night.   Without him you’d certainly be dead and he would be too, not that you would ever hear him admit it of course.  He showed it in different ways, training you, honing your skills to turn the frightened waif of a girl into a finely tuned survivor. 

You chance a crouch, peering over the rusted cabinet to assess your surroundings.  A fallen shelfing unit blocks the only exit, it’s big but you’re not alone.

“Come on, help me lift that unit we’re epically fucked if we stay here and that’s the only way back to the truck!”

You don’t bother with a look back, knowing full well that your leader isn’t leaving your side.

“This better fucking work, I’m covered in shit and Lucille is getting tired..”

“When have I ever let you down Negan, move the damn thing I can’t do it alone!”

Negan’s dark eyebrows pull down, twisting into a menacing frown, but the burden of weight shifted quickly, exertion tugged at the muscles in Negan’s arms and you quickly turn away ashamed but you were nearly home, you knew you had some thinking to do… A move like this needed a few days, it could break everything...

The two of you had never been shy of a little rain, on your journey through the city into the country there had been several summer storms, but nothing like this. 

You share a look with the older man, his handsome features are pinched and restless you must get back to the others, it wasn’t far but the weather didn’t work to your advantage here.  The dead seem to get louder, nastier with weather and to your surprise a small group limp from around the corner, alerted by the collapse of the unit. You tug at Negan’s jacket, yelling something but it’s drowned out by more of the dead, thundering towards you both.

“You trust me?”

“Stupid question Doll! Let’s get the fuck out of here!”  Negan yells, letting you yank his large hand, taking off up the street.

Your feet slip outward on the wet autumn leaves as you round the corner, steadied by Negan’s large grip your heart beats frantically, all or nothing.  You don’t know the area well but Negan seems to realise what the change in terrain means and pulls you harshly to the left.

“Up here! I swear to fuck if they pissed off without us I’ll feed them to the dead pricks!”  You chance a laugh, knowing full well Simon wouldn’t dare flee, they’re stuck together and on more than one occasion you’d ribbed Negan for the “Bromance” 

“You know he wouldn’t leave, Negan.. where are we going?” You stammer, grinding to a halt at his leather clad back. 

The ledge was as wide as a single foot, with all the grip of black ice.  It went right around the building you’d found yourselves in.  Mostly certainly it was never designed to walk on, never to take even the weight of a child let alone you and a grown man.

You sigh, following Negan’s eyes to latch onto the exact reason you were up here in the first place.

“You trust me?” Negan echoes, entwining your fingers with his own.

You’d trust him with your life, and you have. But your love, that is a different story maybe one for a moment that isn’t this; you breathe deep and dive forward never letting go of Negan’s hand.

You both land hard on top of the truck, flailing like a new born fawn.

“Shit Doll, not one of my best ideas!” Negan groans, winded and gasping on his back.

Instantly every nerve switches on, fuelled by his pain. You’re hovering over him in a second, scanning his body with eyes and hands for any wounds. He doesn’t go to stop you, and you decide to take a liberty and linger on his face and neck trying to keep the business head on, but it’s wavering.

“You alright sweet?”  Oh.

It’s chilly, the wind harsher on top of the truck but you burn red, the endearment falling out and you’re helpless to stop it. 

“Fine, we gotta fucking go.”  At first, you hadn’t thought he’d heard you but you don’t think the gleam in his eyes is any indication that he heard loud and clear. 

 

The boom rolls across the metal of the truck, announcing the start of what the brooding cloud layer had promised since dawn. The boughs of the trees sway in the strengthening gust, surrendering their fall leaves without a fight.  The violent unforgiving rain lashes against the glass as you begin your journey home, you’re barely able to see and panic - your hands shaking at the wheel. 

Negan notices, of course he does.  In fact, you’d noted his gaze hadn’t left you much since getting in. It does nothing for your nerves but you carry on, sitting up straight to get a better view of the road.

“Simon didn’t leave us Negan, there…” You stammer, unsure whether to mention what you saw back there. 

“I know Doll.  I saw it too..”  It’s a relief, but does nothing to quell the worry.

“There was so much blood.”  

It’s then that your eyes meet, full of unshed tears and his dark green eyes hold yours in silent reassurance.

“Negan. I—“

 

It’s over in a heartbeat.

There’s pain.  Blood.  Shards of glass.

You register being thrown against the driver’s side window, your leg twisted at a painful angle trapped between the broken seat and the mud, bleeding and burning hot.  The pain so overwhelming it makes your eyes roll back, plunging you into blackness again.

_You whimper, hot rain speckling your face, a pleasant change from the cold concrete._

_You’re not dead. The hands are gone and so is the rain._

_“Hey.”_

_You open your eyes, blinking once, twice and a third to register the dark figure above you.  You don’t have the energy to flinch.  But what you expect to be the fatal blow, is a warm pair of arms cradling your wounded form.  It’s the first caring gesture you’ve felt since before all this. And the first time in years, you felt utterly and completely safe._

A moment of relief bought you back to the scene. The dead, smash and growl at the wreckage, trying desperately to reach you through the broken windows.  It makes you realize, you weren’t the only one in danger!  

Negan was crumpled in on himself, entangled in his seatbelt. Thank the lord he wore one, you’d argued on more than one occasion that even though drivers were scarce around now, it didn’t give him an excuse to neglect his safety.  You wonder briefly why he started listening.   But it was no time to dwell. 

Leaning forward to reach him you grimace, a glaring dark bloom of blood and bruising pools at the surface of your ankle glaring to be attended to but desperation in you overrides any pain. 

Blood mingles with blood as you grasp his hand, holding the twisted digits in your own, begging silently for him to be alive.  He _can’t_ die.

_“Negan..”_

A strangled gasp escapes as Negan’s eyes flicker open and roll around.  The dark green pools frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual glow.

“It’s okay, you're okay." You press, hauling yourself over to him.

You watch Negan’s teeth sink in and burst his lower lip, pain pulling his arm.  Negan’s fingers shake over the swollen limb, assessing the damage.  You can see his jaw ticking in pain but he still hasn’t spoken.   

“Fucking bullshit.” Negan breathes out, it’s strangled and harsh but it’s the biggest relief but you’re not out of the woods yet. 

“Negan.” You bite out, ignoring your own pain.  The only thing that matters is getting out of here and home alive. 

“We need to get out of here! Negan say something, you’re scaring me.” You panic, groaning against the shot of pain that radiates through your ballooning ankle.

It surprises you that your pain is the reason he snaps back to the moment, but it’s overwhelmed by complete relief that he’s alive.

“Can you move?” You stammer, grappling with his good hand. 

“Hurts. Fuck damn it!” His breath comes in small spurts.

Flecks of blood smears his sweaty face, dripping from one eyebrow in a string. He’d managed by the grace of god to live to keep awake for you and you couldn’t help but choke back a sob of overwhelming emotion. 

“Negan I..god damn. Sweet, we have to go.  Please, for me? Can you move?”  You’re begging, ignoring the pain to haul yourself over to his lap and snuggle desperately into his side.

You tried so hard to hide it from everyone, from Simon to Dwight to Negan himself.  You’d never been good at secrets and this was getting harder to keep.  

“You trust me?” You breathe, a small shaky smile creeping up to keep from falling apart.

“Always..” The gruff tone of his voice, vibrates through you from your position against his body and you feel yourself take a shaky breath in.

There were so many things that happened before this, so many things that needed to be said but you didn’t have the words, not now.  So, you settle for resting your head on his shoulder.

“Negan. Don’t fall asleep. You have to stay awake for me okay?” You plead, smiling at the view of his eyes flickering open to land solely on yours.

“I’m awake, I’m awake..” He breathes, a small smile creeping up onto his handsome features.

You can’t stay here, you know that, so you make the decision to move despite the pain, grasping his good arm to pull insistently.  To your surprise he moves silently, holding you tight as you help each other out of the wreckage.

“What would I do without you sweetheart..”

“You’d be fine..” You sigh, nudging him to carry on toward a small shelter off the side of the road.

“Come on Negan, shit I think your shoulder’s dislocated. Sit down..” It’s dusty and the floor wobbles precariously when you wriggle around Negan’s form, helping him breathlessly onto the floor.  The pair of you are soaked and covered in mud from head to toe but it’s shelter from the storm and you’re nothing but overwhelmingly grateful for whoever is looking down on the both of you at that moment. 

“Negan, stay awake okay? Your head’s bleeding..”  

“Stop fucking nagging Doll, I’m fine..” 

“You’re not fine. Shut up. I need you to lay flat, I know it hurts but you gotta..”

Negan cocks an eyebrow, watching your stoic frame order him about. He may be wounded but his attitude is still intact it seems.

Obediently Negan laid down, much to your surprise. 

“Don’t move.”

Your heartbeat thunders, chasing the breath out of your nose as you unbutton his shirt, grateful that he wasn’t paying attention to your shaking hands.  Your free hand moves, gliding against the clammy skin of his shoulder to assess the damage.  Your pale hand a shockingly conflicting colour to his dark tanned skin, it drifts down his full shoulder dipping slightly as you smooth over the no less full bicep.

You’re ashamed at the tightening in your stomach, distracting and warm; grunting audibly you shake your head, grasping the underside and crook of his elbow, and with one swift movement pull, the clunk is loud as it locked into place.  You only hear his growl, and will yourself not to grunt out loud at the tightening of your lower stomach.  

“You’re brilliant, you know that…” Negan slurs, sitting up with a scrunch of his face.

With his wounds tended to his attention seemed to change to you, instantly he lurches forward gripping your arms and sides to check for blood and wounds.  Just like you did him. 

“I’m fucking nagging you now Doll, you’re in pain. Don’t lie to me.” Negan snaps, but his eyes are filled with kindness.  You release a short sharp breath, cogs whirring in your head, silently churning over what to say.

“My ankle, not much you can do Negan..” 

He’s looking so intently into your eyes that, in that moment you’re powerless to stop the sting of tears, it’s relief and pain and something so overwhelming you do nothing but cry. 

“Doll?!” 

“I thought..” You breathe, knowing that it must be now.  You’d been planning to tell him, to chance it and it was ironic that it took nearly dying to push you to this.

“What Doll? What’s wrong, you’re a badass you don’t cry!” Negan smiles, holding the side of your head in his palm.  You can’t help but let yourself lull into it.

“I thought you died Negan..”

“Doll..”

You start blabbing, stammering over tears and a catch in your throat.

“Negan. I thought you died. I don’t know what I would have done if you were dead. I can’t, you can’t die!”  You’re wailing now, repeating it over and over.

Negan exhales as your small hand grips his large one, running the smooth tip of your finger of the rough skin of his knuckles.  He didn’t want this..

“I’m not dead sweetheart. We’re gonna make it out of this..”

“You don’t get it.  We’ve been together from the start, you saved my god damn life!” You yell, struggling to control the wobble in your voice.

Negan didn’t respond at first. A deep breath and the tension released, a heavy arm reached out pulling your shaking body into his side.

“We’ve been together from the start. That means something Negan.  Oh god.. I..”

You can’t do this. Can’t humiliate yourself and be the one to fall, the weak one in a one-sided dance between friends.  Because that’s all you were, friends with baggage.  That’s what you’ll always be.

Falling silent, there is nothing but the rain beating down on the tin roof falling down to splatter ungracefully onto your hair.

You can feel it, the burning of Negan’s gaze into your head. You practically confessed everything to him, everything you vowed to ignore since you arrived at The Sanctuary.

“Y/N”

You can’t turn, breathe or blink.  Facing the burn of rejection is something you’ve never learned how to do.

“Trust me?”  This time you can’t not turn, the two words you can’t ignore from the man that saved your life pulls your watery gaze to his.

“I’m alive. Fuck Doll…”

Negan’s exhales a fluttering breath and you’re almost blinded by the bright smile of his, the smile you’ll never forget as long as you live.  How could you ever forget that grin?

For several seconds you both freeze, blinking before he leans down – his scruff is covered in blood and water drips down in between your mouths but it just adds to the heady sensations. 

_Negan’s kissing you._

It’s wet and warm and you realise that it’s not just due to the rain.  Tears stream from your eyes and pool in the dip of your neck.  

Tangling your fingers in his hair you dive forward careful not to crush his injured arm in the process, he bends your over with the weight of his kiss but it’s everything; every emotion, sensation and pure unadulterated want you’ve ever felt poured into one small kiss.

You were strangers, two souls lost in the darkness united by fear and loss you’ve come to this; changing each other in ways you can’t explain and don’t want to delve into. 

“Negan..” You gasp as he pulls away from your mouth to stare longingly into your teary eyes.

“Say it sweetheart.” It’s a breath, just simple, nothing more nothing less.

But to you it means the world.

“I love you, Negan. I always have, god I just fucking love _you..”_ You’re both crying, letting everything go, screw the consequences.

“Trust me?” 

_“Always.”_

“I love you too.”

You gasp, bowing your head letting it fall into his shoulder. 

Large arms pull around your shaking, cold frame. 

“Come on, lets go home..”

 


	2. Trust Me, Always..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later.

  _He can taste iron. It bites his tongue and stings his senses and there’s thick red on his hands and shirt and on the floor and he thinks even on his face but he has to focus, has to push down the adrenaline that pulses threatening to spill out and stain the sidewalk._

_“Negan—“_

_“Shut the fuck up!”  Negan roars over the black trucks raging engine pulling away with a screech toward home._

* * *

 

“Crime of passion.”  The announcement is calm, detached; as coolly indifferent as the eyes of the tall man in front of you. 

“Senselessly killing two of our people. A crime of-- _Jesus.”_  

Rick Grimes tries, as always to shake your confidence but as usual it falls flat leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air of the white picket world of his inhabitants, which are peppered around him like a piss poor imitation of an army.  

It’s been a year, and still on queue every Thursday he tries to reason with you, begging for an answer why you’d killed two of his people that day.  And still, you shrug giving him the same answer as the week before but he’s never satisfied.

“We can work something out? A deal, where we both win?!” 

“Uh-uh. Let me stop you there.” You hold a hand up to interrupt him, raising an eyebrow at the dark-skinned warrior, noting her fingers twitching at the intricate handle of her deadly Katana. 

“Winners, losers it’s all fucking relative Rick! Don’t give me that shit!” You snap, stepping ever closer. 

“I know you’re close to him.  I know what it’s like at The _Sanctuary..”_ It’s bitter and cold just like his eyes and instantly your whole body is like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at the mere sound of words from his mouth.

“Oh yes.” You bite.  “Your little brat decided to come for a day trip and you now you know _everything!”_  You find yourself laughing, rocking back on your heels to grin at Dwight who wheezes behind you in kind.

“You listen to me, good and clear Prick.”  Rick tenses, barely concealing his flinch at your presence pressing close to his chest, it angers his woman who grabs at your shoulder shoving your body.

She barely gets a hold, heightened reflexed kick in and instantly she flies back landing onto the concrete with an almighty thud. It gives you the perfect opportunity to grab for her weapon, pinning both to the spot with the glistening blade and a boot to the chest.

“This is just hilarious! Don’t you get it yet?  You scavenge for us. We _generously_ leave you and your merry band of wankers half of said shit and ever so nicely grind the deadhead population to a halt!”

You’re cool and calm, but curl your toes in your boots with each word.

“We’re—“  The woman from under you tries to speak; “What? What was that honey? You’ll have to speak up?” 

“We’re starving here. Please, leave the food.” She asks hoarsely, hands curling into fists.  “There must be something you want..” the question is so honest and desperate that you blink relaxing the pressure against her ribs.  

Maybe there is something.  But you ponder, knowing Negan wouldn’t let it slide you know he’d bench you in three seconds flat and roll through this place like a bull in a china shop and even you had limits. 

Briefly you look to Dwight, hoping the scrawny blonde would be any help but he just looks confused at your silence. 

“Maybe.  Rick Grimes, maybe there is something you can do for little old me after all.”

..

“Let’s move out folks! Leave the damn food!” Comes your voice from a small house, bright and cheerful snapping an angry Dwight out of his death stare with the Latina he’d been bugging on the last few trips to this town. 

Deep creases appear in Dwight’s forehead when you get closer, Grimes in toe. 

“What’s that fucking look for?” You ask.

“Negan won’t be happy you let these pricks keep their food.” Is all he says returning his eyes to you from the floor.  You get it, you do but you got what you wanted even if Rick didn’t expect your request.  The deal was done.

“You don’t think I know that? You know perfectly that I can deal with him anyway.” You snap, but a smirk twitches your lips at the grimace on Dwight’s face.

“Exactly. Now let’s move out!” You holler, watching Dwight and the rest of your Saviour group pack up the truck.

“Thank you.” Arms folded on the gate Rick clears his throat, barely able to look you in the eye.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for _you.”_  

 

It takes longer than you expect to get back home, the shadows twice as long. The evening air damp and cool, smelling faintly of the exhaust fumes, the sun dipping lower in the sky until the silhouettes of the dead slowly melt away into the blackness of night.  

That’s when you notice something was different.  Dusk was falling and you weren’t the last lot back, the space that was normally frequented by the large back truck laid empty, the only evidence of it ever being there; a black slick of oil trailing off into the night. 

He wasn’t back.

Without another thought you press into the depths of The Sanctuary, ignoring stragglers greetings and half-hearted kneels from the prisoners.  You hadn’t recalled seeing Dwight since returning from Alexandria and you knew he had a radio.  You scolded yourself for not thinking sooner, you were Negan’s right hand and much more, it was more than your duty to keep updated on his devilish escapades.  You were starting to get nervous. 

“Dwight!”

A door opens, illuminating the dull hallway in warm light. 

Dwight approaches, hands extended in what you can only interpret as nervous surrender. But you don’t care, the only thing you want is the radio and take it without a word from his palm. 

“It’s me, we’re home.  You’re not. Everyone good?”  It’s a matter of fact, but you can’t hide the unsteady tone of voice that repeats into the receiver.

“Simon? Negan? You better not be raiding that liquor store we found last week! You know I can’t deal with puke!”  Nervous, but not without humour you laugh waiting for a drunk slur or any sign of life from the other end, but are only greeted by silence. 

 _Okay then._ You eventually sigh, heading back to the parlour, clutching the small walkie in hand the whole way.  But then you remember what happened back in Alexandria and smile, holding out hope that everything would work out in your favour. 

You’re not smiling later when the worry blurs into cold, sickly fear as you fall asleep that night, alone in your bed.

And you’re not smiling when that fear manifests itself into a vicious knock on your door at 5am.

 

There are bullets, there are guns and knives and faces; broken faces, blank faces and then there’s Simon.  He’s covered in blood.  _So much blood._   You scan him in fear as he strides painfully towards you, the clothes that you fell asleep in now clinging to your body in pure unadulterated terror that something awful had happened. 

“Don’t..” You stammer, forcing back unshed tears but as the giant man grounds to a stop you know it’s not what you feared.   He looks angry, dark eyebrows cover his brown irises in displeasure. 

“He’s gonna be an asshole.”  A grunt nothing more, then the slam of a door and you’re alone shaking in the cold hallway staring into the dark where Simon had appeared from…waiting.

What feels like hours later, a figure practically tumbles through the darkness in its haste. 

Every nerve in your body is telling you it’s him but your brain isn’t so sure.  The only thing that tips you off, that you can see through the blood is his eyes.

“Negan.” You gasp out, cold sweat prickling across your brow and sticking yesterday’s shirt to your skin.

“What happened?!” You ask, moving slowly forwards without even realising it. 

But he walks straight past, like you’re a ghost slamming the door so hard you can feel it in your teeth and once again, you’re somewhat alone.  The spike of adrenaline is fading, enough to stop your heart completely.  Running a shaky hand through your hair, you’re so relieved that you feel a bit faint.  But that’s when the state of Negan really registers, damp with sweat and desperate for air you take off into the bedroom after him.

Nothing has changed upon opening the door.  The sheet still lay crumbled.  Remnants of the walkie remain scattered about the floor.  But it’s no longer silent. 

Deep ragged breathing fills the air, blooms of cigarette smoke following in its wake.  For a moment, you stop and consider leaving the room but he’s too silent and you know all too well what that means.

“Babe?”  You swallow audibly, as you get closer you can make out more of his face. 

His dark eyes are wet glistening in the faint slivers of light breaking through the curtains.  It strikes you then that something awful did happen.

“Negan. What happened?”

“They were all dead.” You jump, shocked at the hoarseness of his voice.  It’s almost tortured, striking fear in your chest like no other. 

“Who? Tell me?” Reaching out a hand, you try your best to soothe him but get stuck in cold blood that clots disgustingly against the leather. 

“New community. They wore fucking—“ You wait with bated breath ignoring the smoke that fills the air between your bodies.

“They wore the dead’s skins. They started fucking talking Y/N. They wouldn’t stop.”  He huffs, the terror as clear as a bell in his voice.  

“No one could tell who was Dead or undead.  There was so much fucking blood..”  Tears are cascading down Negan’s cheeks, pulling white streaks in the blood that covers his features and clings to his scruff.

This isn’t the first time he’s cried. It’s something you never thought you’d have to see again.  You remember the last time he looked this frightened and vulnerable, his blank stare is one that you hadn’t seen Negan wear since that freezing night, caked in mud and blood in the wreckage of a truck.

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip and you push off from the couch, walking out into the bathroom before you even know what you’re doing, and moments later you’re back with a bowl of water and a towel.  The couch creaks as you sink down slowly onto your knees, pulse starting to race again at the pure state of the man you love.

Negan's eyes are fixed unseeingly on the wall; the pressure of your fingertips makes him jump at first, but once he looks back to you he lets his hand be prised from the cigarette, and wrapped around a cold glass.  You keep your own hand on it as he carefully tilts it to his lips, so the trembling doesn't slosh the water everywhere, and hold it still until he has taken a few uncharacteristically eager gulps.  Then you set the glass on the table, watching the ramrod straightness of Negan’s back abruptly drain away and make his whole-body sag.  Unfolding the towel, you spend the next minute or so gently dipping into the water and easing the wet warm material over his face and peel off his flesh heavy jacket to ease him out of his soaked shirt, wrapping the towel around his broad shoulders and rubbing a little too warm him up.

“They were screaming.”  Negan murmurs, looking directly at you for the first time. When he does, his deep green eyes are expectedly intense.

“So loud more dead came and I was fighting hard, but Lucille couldn’t take them all and I was nearly bit, then Joey went down the fa----“

At first, you’re unsure of what was said but not for long.

“EXCUSE ME?”  It’s a wail, in a voice that sounds more like breaking glass and he gasps.

“Doll.” Through your searing anger Negan’s deep pull of breath doesn’t go a miss, it matches the quivering of his bottom lip and your jaw drops.

“You said you weren’t going to die!” You scream, whacking his bare arm with the soaked towel.

“Remember that Negan? That little night a year ago, saying how you weren’t going to leave me?!”

“I know Y/N.  You don’t know what it was like out there!” It’s loud but unmistakably haunted and you nearly cave, but the mere thought of how close you unknowingly came to losing the love of your life wins out and you scream.

“God Negan!  We promised each other! I hate you right now..”  Fresh tears spill over, they’re guilty and it hurts to see the exact same look on Negan’s face.  He looks so lost, sitting clinging to the towel, head bowed in shame and you struggle to breathe, because it’s one thing to think about losing him, but having to face that reality is something you will never comprehend.  Especially now.

“I’m sorry. God, I don’t deserve you Doll..”

He’s not looking at you, and you’re not having any of that.

“Oh you ass..” You sigh out under your breath.  Negan’s eyes flit back up and you take his chin between your fingers and thumb so he has no choice, no choice but to look at you and see that you mean every syllable.  “I love you Negan, we love you..”

The breath hitches in Negan’s throat, watery orbs widening.  You raise both eyebrows and reinforce firmly, “ _We.”_ The word echoes around for what seems like an eternity before Negan finally reacts.

“You mean--?”

“I’m pregnant,” You answer with a beaming smile, “I went to Alexandria for the pick-up. Made a deal with Rick. An ultrasound for a light drop.”  Another beat of silence. Two. Three.

“Me, a dad. Hol-y shit.”

“Yeah.”

You both lapse into silence, it’s beginning to worry you until you squeal at the change in height Negan’s strong arms haul you up into a fireman’s lift waltzing proudly into the bathroom.

 _My kid. Mine._  

Negan mutters it like a mantra, pottering around the bathroom like a dazed housewife, you’re surprised when he doesn’t glance your way as your strip, peeling off each sodden item of clothing.    But you’re too busy watching him to really care anyway.  Even covered in blood and remnants of the dead he’s still stunning.  How did this happen?  You were somehow given everything in a world where nothing was.

“It’s big enough for the both of us baby, you know that..”  You grin at his tone, it’s lusty and dark but something different reaches your mind first.  

“Pass me the soap.”   You can see he’s confused but he does as told and watches you lather the suds and step close. 

“You gonna wash me baby?” Negan hums, gleaming down at your frame with utter appreciation and groans at the first paw of your soapy hands at his chest. 

Slick hands rub lovingly at his skin, taking care to remove every crimson stain. 

“My kid..”  You giggle at how breathless he still sounds, the water dripping down his hair softly pushing it into his eyes immediately winding back the years.  The drops slowly make their way to his body, mingling into the scattering of hair at his chest and abdomen. 

Slowly you raise a hand and cup his cheek, leaning up to kiss him gently.  Feeling both hands glide over your water slick body, pulling you flush against him, breasts plush against his broad chest; just how he likes it. 

And oh, boy did you know how fucking much he enjoyed you. 

The heavy weight of his slick cock nudged your belly, urging to be touched and you happily oblige. Never leaving his face you’re treated to a wealth of expressions from lust to love to pain as your pumps continue, twisting eagerly at the head until he drags your wandering hands away, pinning them hard to your back. 

“Dangerous game babygirl..” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, biting your lower lip before groaning, loud.  His hand is wet and zeros in on your pussy, cupping the entirety with one palm. You wriggle down against it, trying hard to gain some friction but he’s having none of it and pushes you gently against the tiles slipping down face to face with your bare slick mound.

Apple cider eyes lock onto yours, unwavering as his tongue flushes out lapping slowly at the underside of your clit, and you cry out, his hot wet tongue and mouth suckling at your hypersensitive clit without respite.  Negan doesn’t let up, even when your hand tugs at his hair.

“Fuck, fucking hell. Negan I’m gonna come..” You ramble, feet shaking on tile. 

It’s then, he growls purposeful and loud tongue hot and shakes his head hard against your skin. 

You weren’t loud in bed by design, but the moan was deafening enough that it bounced hard off every wall. 

“That’s it, good girl..” Negan purrs, resting his head against your stomach making you giggle breathlessly at his ticklish scruff against your wet skin. 

“Hey kiddo..” 

It takes your breath away and tears pool in your eyes at the vision at your knees. 

The man that everyone fears, nuzzling softly into your still flat stomach.

“We’re gonna cause a lot of trouble, me and you..” 

You’re freely crying now, but it’s a matter of seconds before a towel is wrapped around your body and Negan lets you cry, helping you to dress and quickly you snuggle, worries gone and happy beyond belief.   For a moment, you let yourself bask in being unequivocally happy.

“I don’t know what I would have done, you know. If Simon had told me you bit it..”

You expected him to speak, but instead Negan shuffled down resting damp hair on your stomach.  In truth, you never anticipated him being this enamoured.

“Your Mama would be fine, crazy, but fine.”  It’s barely audible, whispered like a secret only a growing heartbeat could keep.

“No one will ever hurt both of you. I’d hunt them to the ends of the earth and pick the meat off their bones myself.  I promise..” 

You scoff, giggling at the absurdity but secretly you knew how deadly serious he was. 

“Babe?” 

You hum sleepily, the warm breaths against your skin lulling you into a doze.

“Trust me?” 

With that you open your eyes, looking down at Negan who smiles brightly, rubbing your fingers with his own.

“Always.” 

It seems to placate him but;

“Marry me.” 

“What..”

“If Rick has a fucking ultrasound, he must have a vicar… right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More requests for this story have blindsided me so, I may be turning this into an ongoing thing! 
> 
> Comments make my day!


	3. Earn What You Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment! Woo

You’re trying desperately to ignore the headache creeping up behind your eyes. You’ve decidedly spent the better part of the last hour sprawled out on the sofa, hair tied up and staring at the three men currently inhabiting your front room.  They all sit surrounding a large oak desk, obscuring your vision but now and then you hear snippets - much to your distaste words like War and Grenades are thrown around and you sigh wriggling uncomfortably on the grey suede.  

It had only been a couple of months since the ‘wedding’ the service Grimes had been threatened into hosting had been a surprisingly happy occasion; well, until the inevitable happened and a fight broke out.  Much to your astonishment Rick had been warm towards you, you think it probably had something to do with the fact he knew you were pregnant. It made you uneasy to know that apart from Negan, the only person that knew of your condition was his enemy.  And now, they were warring. 

You never foresaw this, the Grime’s clan breaking this quickly.  While you were dressed in white they were nowhere to be seen, instead of hiding in fear of The Saviours they had been setting traps and plotting ambushes.  It’s messed up, but you felt betrayed of all things.  The understanding that you seemed to have with the golden boy had been a lie and betrayal quickly turned to anger.  Hence the ever-growing headache. 

It pounds hard, pulsating behind your eyes mixing with the frustration and restlessness that wreaks havoc on your body and turns into a deadly emotional cocktail which goes unnoticed by the three men talking loudly across the room.  But despite the noise you make no move to retreat to the bedroom, pregnancy it seems, has bombarded your body with an acute case of separation anxiety!  It’s been happening more and more; each time Negan had been going to leave, you lash out throwing accusations and crying _so_ much more than necessary.  Irrational, you know and even Negan had been lenient, keeping a tight leash on his temper. 

Unfortunately, two days prior, something snapped.  Today marking the second day of limited conversation and cold nights sleeping a foot apart.  Although you were in the midst of conflict, Negan hadn’t shirked your presence in the room and with Dwight and Simon around he allowed you to stay, even if he didn’t acknowledge you at all.   

But your body paid no mind to the tension weighing heavy between you, as you lay here one hand hanging from the couch fondling the plush fluff rug, the other covers your eyes lazily attempting to block out the warm light of noon.  But what you’re desperately trying to distract from is the urge that has been crawling under your skin since opening your eyes this morning. 

An angry groan pulls at your attentions, his fists are clenched on the mahogany the serious set to his jaw is incredibly sexy and you can’t look away; you ache to run your fingers across it, to hold his chin in a tight grip and run your tongue over his scruff before finally capturing his lips in a biting kiss. 

The next thing you know, the hum of three distinct voices is completely and utterly silent.

Shit. You must have moaned or made some sort of sound because when you finally pull away the arm that’s shielding your eyes, Simon and Dwight are both staring intently and somewhat rather confused at the needy sound your hormone riddled fantasy had produced.

“You alright?”  Dwight mutters, brows pulled into a frown which is somewhat inhibited by the pink scar marring the left side of his face.  You had grown friendlier since becoming the leader of the Alexandrian drop off team and have spent a decent amount of downtime together for him to be concerned.  Little did he know of the hormones that flooded every vein causing you to groan, stretching to hide the hard squeeze of your thighs.  Redundantly you let out a sigh, departing from the sofa hoping that a walk would dampen the arousal that snuck up on your vulnerable body without warning. 

“Hungry..” You mutter, nodding in the direction of the two men and Negan, who was obviously still pretty content to pretend you weren’t there.  You give him a longing look, letting out a sombre sigh before leaving the room.

 

You were greeted by the sights and sounds of the bustling Sanctuary for the first time in a few days, admittedly glad of the different smells and muggy air.  You didn’t spend much time down here before, but becoming Negan’s only wife granted you more freedom and room to breathe at times like this, even if Negan didn’t like you wandering amongst folk that might have a grudge, especially with the baby.  But, you’re here, padding down the tall stairway to the main hall; beds and flimsy privacy curtains surround a market set up, it’s packed full of people of all ages and you realize how lucky you are. 

You receive mixed reactions as you pass the bunks, a few individuals turn away averting their eyes out of respect for Negan who, you suppose might pop out of nowhere at any minute so you don’t berate them but continue to stroll, taking in the smells of bread and cooking.

“That’s Negan’s _wife?”_ You hear a voice whisper, it’s small and prompts you to turn seeking it out.  To your surprise, you have to look further down than anticipated and it wipes the look of irritation from your features straight away.   The boy is small, fair haired and staring; wide eyed.  His mother looks like she’s about to wet herself and you can’t help but let out a giggle.

“Hey sweetheart..” You smile, crouching down to extend a hand to the boy, his mother tries to pull him away but with a wave of your hand stills instantly.

“It’s okay, he’s fine” The woman seems to be perturbed by your bright smile, but a small staggered one plays on her own face and she stills.

“What’s your name?” 

“Harvey!”  He seems to warm up to you and jumps forward

“Well Hi Harvey, I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”  You smile, shaking his small hand in yours. 

There’s a silence, and he stares expression changing and you wonder what he’s seen and instantly turn to see if Negan has shown his face but before you can do so, Harvey reaches out, brushing gently under your eyes.

“Don’t cry, I-I didn’t do anything, did I?” He stammers and it’s then it hits you.  You are crying.

“No, no. It’s okay! Now,” You stand, discreetly wiping your face with the back of a hand before brightening.

“Can you do something for me?” You ask, nodding in his mother’s direction for permission, which she gives readily, if not with a little confusion.

“When dinner time comes, get Mommy to tell the kitchen men that I said to give you extra for the week okay?”  You blurt out, overcome with emotion.  Addressing the mother now, you see yourself in her, shy and overwhelmed by this new world but there’s something in her eyes that tells you she would tear up the world by its roots to protect that child.

“Thank you so, so much!”  She cries, wrapping herself around you followed quickly by her son who clings to your leg.  

“It’s no problem...”  You know that Negan can’t know about this, with his mood as it is it would definitely not end well, for them or you.   “But keep it between us.”

She opens her mouth but heated conversation averts both of your eyes and your mood sours instantly.

“Hey, the lines a line! What you don’t have ‘em where you come from? You ‘dunno how they work? Get in it prick!” 

A tall burly man with what has to be the worst vintage haircut you’ve ever seen towers over one of the stall clerks, ranting.

“I report directly to Negan, which means you report directly—“

_“To me.”_

Each and every person falls silent watching with bated breath as you stalk behind the man, who you now recognise as Eugene; he visibly tenses shrivelling up into himself at your hard touch on his shoulder.

“ _Eugene._ You see Negan anywhere?” Hissing, you slide in front of him tilting your head in question to meet his guilty eyes.

“N-no Ma’am..”  It’s funny really, his flailing splutters. 

“The fuck’s Ma’am? You think I’m 40?!”  More people stop to look at your screech, you’d regret their attentions more if you weren’t so damn angry.

“N-no. I am sorry. I-I-“ 

“I don’t care. You report to Negan, which means you report to me. And Eugene, speaking to someone, a woman of all things like that?  That, is not the way.”  You smile sweetly, patting at the flinching man. 

“Put. The. Things. Down. _Now.”_  

“I’m s-sorry.” Eugene avoids your eyes, putting all the items back but you swipe one of them hooking it under your arm, if any of the onlookers dare question it, it falls on deaf ears.

“I am truly sorry, to you a-and to you Ma’am. I really am..”

“Goody! Now, if I ever catch wind of you doing anything like that again? It won’t be me dealing with your ass you hear?”

“Have a nice day, _Eugene..”_

Everyone disburses quickly, and you melt into the crowd heartbeat slowing.

People stare, of course they do when you walk through the crowd, but your sour expression is dampened by the item under your arm and you’ve just about spotted its new owner.

“Hi, again!”

“Hi, um thank you for what you did, for the food. You didn’t have to I-I..” 

“What’s your name?” You ask, scanning for the child who doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

“Ally..” 

“Well, it’s no problem Ally.  I’m Y/N.  This, is for Harvey..” 

Misty eyed you hand over the teddy, but get enveloped in her arms.

“You don’t know how much this means to us.  He doesn’t have much, it’ll make him happy.” Ally smiles, withdrawing from your arms she takes in your form and her brow furrows.

“How many weeks?” 

For a long, drawn out moment you stand dumbstruck.  Baggy shirts cover your small bump nicely, there is no way she could have known.  You must visibly start to panic as Ally grasps your shoulders, trying to hold your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Your eyes shoot up from the floor to meet hers, and in the chocolate pools you see she can be trusted, unlike so many you’ve encountered. 

“Around thirteen, I think..”

“I bet you don’t even want to look at food without gagging, right?”  She laughs, patting your shoulder. Maybe that’s how she knew about the baby? Weird touch ability? You chuckle, accepting her invitation to sit.

“I’m tired all the damn time! I’ve wasted so many days in bed, out cold like you won’t believe!”

“…. Have you gotten through _that_ stage yet?” She flashes you a one-sided smile, but you miss her insinuation completely.

“Oh, this is awkward...” Ally coughs, scratching the back of her neck.  “The sex..” she blurts looking anywhere but you.

“Oh.” You snigger, but don’t smile the recollection of why you came down here in the first place weighs heavy. 

“Having trouble?”  She asks, but you’re careful in responding unsure of what or if to divulge such a private thing.

“I can’t keep still, I tried to sleep it off or take care of it myself but I’m starting to look at him like he’s a piece of meat!”  You giggle, cringing together in a fit of laughter!

“Oh, sweetheart that’s normal!”

You wonder if it’s normal to be at odds with the father, but keep it in and excuse yourself.

“Speaking of.” You grin and squeeze her hand, “I’m gonna go back. It was lovely meeting you Ally and Harvey too!” 

“Thank you again! Bye, oh and good luck!”

You shoot her a wave and disappear up the stairway, two at a time.

 

Inside Negan is right where you expected him to be; still sitting at the desk, looking considerably angrier than when you left.  Simon and Dwight nod friendlily in your direction and once again Dwight furrows his brow but with a quick reprimand from Negan his attentions are quickly reeled in.

“Dwight. Pay fucking attention.”  Negan snaps, and briefly meets your eyes.  Your eye brows shoot up and you smile hopefully at Negan who doesn’t return the gesture.  Not being able to avoid the shaky intake of breath you turn and pad dejectedly into the kitchen like a scolded child.  This isn’t how to expected the day to go, the throb still setting heavy between your legs even with the fruitful walk and disregard from Negan, nothing seems to quash it.  You have half the mind to waltz into the bedroom, uncaring of the presence of Simon and Dwight and take care of yourself, but you know full well it won’t fully scratch the annoying hormone induced itch that floods your body.

“You guys want a beer?” You ask, loudly enough from the kitchenette. As you expected, only two of the three acknowledge the question and you begin to feel the angry wave ripple down your wrists and you almost let it pull your strings and hurtle the unopened bottle across the room.  But instead you gather the three cold beers and wander over, depositing them to the men but change tactic when reaching for Negan.

“Here love, drink.” 

From his position seated at the desk, Negan looks hotly at you, but mostly at your precarious position. Both his men have moved back, talking purposely at each other, over you as you reach across, not moving your body draped over the desk.  You’ve done this before, but with much less clothing and Negan’s hand hard in between your shoulder blades.

You hum, swallowing nervously at the tick in Negan’s jaw.

“It’s been hours, guys. Take a break?” 

The two others shuffle in their seats, but Negan shakes his head, shooting you a look so incredulous anyone would think you’d just asked him to strip naked.

“You don’t listen to her. You listen to me, as if I have to fucking reiterate!”

Toes crush the carpet at his tone, you pout and let out a quiet groan.

“For fuck sake..” you begin, a pair of dark eyes swivel up to meet your own, and there it is – that expression creeping onto Negan’s face, pursing his lips and softening his brow. You know he’s concerned for the baby rather than you, you never expected him to be this invested and in front of his oblivious men no less! You take a deep breath staring at Negan who turns back to the mission, utterly ignorant that you are in fact, fine and want nothing more than to jump his bones right here right now.

You swallow. Hard. Heart skipping beats in your chest.

Turning on a dime, aware how much of a petulant child you’re being and disappear with a curt slam of the bedroom door.

Inside you rest up against the wood, breathing heavily, a hand resting gently on the beginnings of your pregnancy.  Feeling just a little forsaken and more than a bit restless you look down.

“Your Daddy is an idiot..” You smile, “and you, could have picked a better time to make me horny kid!” You laugh, pacing over to the bed to lay flat hoping a short nap would help.

 

When you wake evening had drawn in, the thin shirt and thick blue denim clings uncomfortably to your skin, at first you put it down to not opening the window but it comes back in flashes; Negan’s large hands pinning yours above your head, stubble scratching deliciously at your thighs while the hot wet weight of his tongue flushes at your folds, seeking out the spot that makes you moan and roll your hips needily for more. 

_Well, that did nothing._

Releasing a slow, unsteady breath you stand ridding yourself of the damp clothes moving to the shower, turning the taps cooler than normal; it slows your heart and you wash quickly letting the light sweet smell of the shampoo and conditioner envelop your heightened senses.

It was a bust, while your body felt fresh and clean your thoughts remain sinfully dirty.

You could cry. You could scream the place down in frustration but you see the draw you had rummaged around in earlier was still open; perfect.

A few minutes later you stand in front of the floor length mirror, the dark garments cling to your fresh skin in all the right places.  With a quick smirk, you grab the black silk robe hiding the underwear from view, leaving your legs and a glimpse of the crossed material exposed, just enough to be respectable in company – leaving the rest to the imagination. 

Fed up of arguing and full of hormones you pull in a deep breath, heading for the parlour.

Nothing has changed when you reach the room, a myriad of thoughts as to how exactly you’re going to get Negan’s attention flow whilst you open cupboards and inspect the fridge for anything edible. It’s not long before you’re forced to accept that there _isn’t_ anything. You let out a sigh, closing the fridge door in defeat, deciding that a drink is better than nothing. 

Damn Negan for being so tall. Every tumbler or mug you seem to have is out of your reach.

_“Fucking Grime’s and his merry band of assholes! God dammit!”_

_“We could ambush, do it at night just like they did us. It’ll be sooner, rather than later that they come for their men.”_

_“We could just go and take everything. Ransack the place and leave them with nothing, it might make Grime’s angrier but they’ll have nothing to hit back with...”_

Standing on your tip toes you stretch at the cups far beyond your grasp, the irritated huff is loud and by the sudden silence in the room they must have noticed the very risky expanse of skin you’re now showing.  If the warm air on your lace covered skin is anything to go by.

You daren’t turn around at the sharp scrape of wood against linoleum and instantly Negan towers beside you.  Nonchalantly you spare him a confused glance, he hasn’t once acknowledged you the entire day and _now_ decides to come to your aid?  _Typical. Male._

“Negan?” You tilt your head in question, fluttering dark lashes.  You know there’s one hell of a high possibility he knows your game, but then again...

“Here.”  He snaps, folding your outstretched palm around the cool glass.  Your heartbeat stutters at the gesture at his large warm hand enveloping your own for the first time in a few days.

Negan moves past you to the fridge and you half expect him to leave but before you can blink he leans imperceptibly closer, breath blowing your free hair.

“Put some fucking clothes on..”  You don’t move.  “You’re not some slut. Flashing your ass, Jesus Christ.”  It’s curt and sharp and more than a little infuriating.  You’ve had enough.

“Mm, but I’m yours.” You smirk, pressing against him from toe to chest sparing a glance at the two men across the room who are locked in a heated disagreement.  Seeing an opening you slide a hand into Negan’s back pocket and squeeze, you haven’t been this close since the heated argument days ago. And now, feeling the heat rolling off Negan’s body, the sweet quick puffs of breath reaching your lips you can’t help but lean up and taste his lips pouring all the pent-up emotion into the gesture.

“Negan, please?” You murmur, staring sincerely into his dark eyes.

The both of you lapse into silence for a few minutes, you watch Negan move from looking through you, to his men and back to you, worried that you might have made the situation worse.

Negan’s eyebrows draw together automatically, taking a step forward your breath hitches when he presses a closed mouth kiss to your forehead. It’s barely a whisper but you lean into it with a happy hum.

“Don’t push me sweetheart.”  Nice as pie. Cool, calm, collected and dangerous.

For a second fear runs through you, that he might be angry but the quick change of look in his eyes tells you there and then that he’s pushing up the anti.

After all, you earn what you take. Right?

Then he’s gone, leaving you breathing heavily against the kitchen counter. 

You steady yourself, tying the robe around you and fish for more beers that inhabit the sparse fridge. 

“So, how’s things in Saviour city?” You smile sweetly, placing yourself in between Simon and Dwight who by this point have taken your particular clothing in.

“There’s trouble brewing for sure..” Dwight comments, looking very pointedly into your eyes than anywhere else, aware of Negan’s heavy stare burning into the back of his head. 

You know Dwight and Laura are together, but Simon is another deal so you raise the stakes, turning to smile brightly at him. 

“Simon?”

“Dwights, Dwight’s right darlin’ trouble ahead.”  You hear the nervous stammer, and huff a laugh at the unusual sound coming from his mouth.  Ignoring Negan completely and fish around for the pack of cards hidden in the cabinet.

“You’ve been talking business too long. Poker?” You smirk, holding Negan’s eyes challenging him to say a word.  It’s dangerous, but he says nothing.

“Alright, now we’re talkin! We playing for anything _special,_ sweetheart?”

“Unless, you’ve got some chocolate or a can of Pepsi under that jacket, no!” You giggle, leaning further than necessary to deal the cards showing Negan _and_ Simon a glimpse of the form fitting lace bralette that adorns your flushed body. 

“We fucking talking or playing.” 

Everyone at the table straightens up at the deep growl but you have another idea;

“I don’t know how to play, help me out?” You pout at Negan, strolling over to him as casually as possible, accidently on purpose ensuring that your bare leg presses against his own where he sits at the head of the desk. 

Glancing at him you’re delighted to find Negan’s eyes are locked on the line between your leg and the robe which presses against him momentarily.

“Mm.” It’s barely an acknowledgement but he opens his arm allowing you to sit on his knee.

By this point, Simon and Dwight have failed at ignoring the awkward tension between the both of you and try to make conversation.

“That’s cheating. But I’d like to keep my damn head, so please ladies first.” Simon sniggers at Negan who for the first time today, cracks a smile and slaps the table.

“Put your money where your mouth is fucker!”

 

“You’re losing.” You sing, arm now draped over his shoulders taking all advantage of his lack of ability to push you away.

“Well. You’re not fucking helping.” He bites, frustrated at Simon lengthy lead.

“Hot damn! We should have played for something, honey what do we get if we win?” Simon mumbles, mulling over his hand.

Discreetly as possible you shift your weight so you can slip the hand that draped around Negan’s back to his hips, snaking it toward his denim covered crotch to stroke teasingly against the hardening weight.

“Mmn, Negan, what _does_ the winner get?”

For a long moment, Negan is deadly silent and to your trained eyes, slightly red faced.

“A pick of the women. As long as they’re agreeable. Whoever you want.” He croons, smiling all teeth and wolf eyes.

“Y/N?” Simon laughs heartily

“Ah! _Ah..”_ Negan snaps, giving Simon the thunderous of looks rendering the whole table silent.

“Negan, I think he was joking..” Trying to placate him, you nuzzle into his neck smoothing the tip of your nose to under his ear.

“Come on Negan we can’t lose.” You whisper, “The Alpha can’t get beat by beta’s baby..” It’s slick and has the exact reaction you were hoping for.  Finally, Negan’s hands touch you a purposeful large hand runs possessively up your thigh; you feel his breath puff against your neck when he reaches the delicate lace that runs around your hips.

“Let’s get this done.” Negan snaps, growing harder under your gentle touch that’s hidden by the desk.

 

“Stop looking at my cards!” Simon rants a while later, displeasure written all over his face at his sudden decent into ‘loserdom’ as Dwight so kindly pointed out.  Who knew teasing was such a good motivator!  Negan has sprinted ahead, holding a strong lead. 

“Yes! Handing your fucking ass on a damn plate!” He chortles, slamming down a royal flush which immediately causes a ruckus.

“How the fuck! Did you hide cards up that robe of yours darlin’?!” Simon rants, taking a large chug of what by the look on his face is now warm beer.

“No! We’re just that good..” You giggle, leaning comfortably into Negan’s side.

“Fuck man. You gotta appreciate that woman, damn.” Simon mutters, but unfortunately it doesn’t go unheard by Negan who tenses.

“What did you just say.”

Fuelled by liquor Simon jumps up, Dwight unable to usher him out of the door.

“You’ve been ignoring her all damn day! She even dressed up for you man? What’s wrong with you?! Don’t know how to take care of your woman!?”  

_Shit._

You can’t breathe. Negan rises in his chair, off balancing you.

You can hear a pin drop as Negan stalks forward, levelling up to Simon who stares just as intently, unflinching at the deathly silence that’s befallen the room.

He starts to laugh, a deep belly laugh that makes the man’s moustache twitch uneasily.

“Damn. Wow, Simon. Okay.”

You gasp, holding your stomach instinctually as Negan launches forward toward you

“Can’t take care of my woman! Well..” You don’t flinch as he comes up behind you, running both hands over the rounding of your belly, affectively showing the two men how well he’d taken care of you.

“She’s fat and happy and trust me when I say, _well_ taken care of. Now. Get. Out!!” 

 

Then, all you can hear is your pants, reverberating around the now empty room; your hands still cradle your stomach protectively.  The door clicks and you jump, turning with wide eyes to be greeted by Negan standing stock still at your frightened frame.  This is how it started last time, a stand-off, but something tells you this time it’s different.  He looks forlorn and calmer than the Leader you had seen not five minutes earlier.

“You alright?”

You have half a mind to scold him for calling you fat, but you’re exhausted and pad over to fold into his warm arms.

“I’m sorry Darlin’..”  You tense in his arms, staring up at his contorted face and barely stifle a mock look of utter shock.

“Was that, was that an apology? From the mighty Negan? Wow, I am honoured!” You giggle, slapping playfully at his chest.

“Hush, you. After that fucking shit you pulled, you’re damn lucky!” Negan sniggers, wrapping an arm around you, he leads you toward the couch pulling you into his side.

“Mm, you fell out with Simon, all because I wanted to jump your bones..” You murmur offhandedly, absentmindedly fiddling with the tie of your robe.

“Really..”

“Yep. Since I opened my damn eyes baby.” You coo, turning toward Negan who stares hard and dark.  _There we go. Victory._ Giggling, you swing a bare leg over his waist and settle hard on his crotch both arms folded on his chest.

“You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger. You know that right?”  Negan purrs, it’s low and lusty and the urge rises fast and throbbing.

“Oh I can feel it Negan.” You whisper into his neck peppering the sensitive expanse with open mouthed kisses enjoying the low moans and flutter of his eyes. You trace your tongue up to the curve of his jaw to nibble at the underside of his ear but don’t get any further, because as soon as you’re close enough Negan reaches into your hair and drags you into an intense kiss.

Negan tastes like the cool beer from earlier, warm and rich. Like home. His lips are soft, and the pleased hum at the back of his throat has your heart skipping into overdrive.

Negan momentarily breaks the kiss, and you whine, peering at him through your lashes, eyes burning. But the want in Negan’s is unmistakable.

“You look real pretty sweetheart..”  It’s soft and the emotion of it fills you with tears, but inappropriately you grind down onto him, wanting more of the hardness that presses forgotten in between your thighs.

“Shit. Mm, honey you are bad..” Negan laughs and leans forward to treat the exposed skin from the fallen robe to kisses that cascade down your chest, the scruff rubbing deliciously at the sensitive skin.

Allowing yourself to get lost in his attentions, you lull your head back rocking with Negan’s distracted rhythm. Feeling your panties uncomfortably slick against your skin you wriggle down earning yourself a deep groan from the man at your chest.

He sees the burning in your eyes and takes your mouth in an unhurried passionate kiss that you feel all the way to your toes and tug at the bottom of his shirt urging it up over his head.  It fluffs his raven hair and you can’t take your eyes from him.  He’s powerful, a killer and a ruthless leader but now, he’s your husband, stroking the life inside of you with gentle hands and you love him with everything and forever.

“I love you so much Negan..” You breathe, but miss his reaction, too intent on undoing the belts at his waist.

“Damn I love you, but why two belts? What a bastard.” You both laugh, both sets of hands try to pull the belts free but end up getting in a muddle.

“Fuck, let me do it..” He grumbles pushing to stand, ridding himself of everything much to your surprise.

“Fuck, Negan..” You moan, watching his cock bob gently

“Like what you see baby..”

“You know I do, hm.”

Wasting no time, you rid yourself of the robe and straddle him again, mouth never leaving his as your hands wander, stroking his hardening cock with purposeful fingers.

“Yes, damn darlin’ you know what you’re doing.” He pants against your mouth and you moan cutting him off with a flush of your tongue.

“Oh!” You gasp at the feel of his large hand cupping between your legs, thumb finding your clit with expert precision.

“Mm, keep going baby. Don’t—shit—stop..” Negan groans as your thumb swipes at the head of his cock, hips jerking into your hand.

You can’t respond in anything but whines, soaking his thighs in your own in slick.

“Negan..ohh..” Your strangled moans fill the room as you come, pumping him in time and he quickly follows with a moan of his own.

“Jesus Christ, ugh come on honey. I gotta be inside you sweetheart..” 

“Lovely Negan, very appropriate with a child present!” You laugh, swatting his hands away but they end up on your ass anyway lifting you up over him.  But he stops, looking dead into your face, and you know exactly what he’s going to say and wrap your hand around him rendering him silent.

“I swear to god if you say you’ll poke the baby I will, kill you. Got me?” 

“Fuck—I was gonna be dirty but never mind.” he grunts, trying to push you down.

“Yeah, okay..” Sniggering you grind teasing his cock with your slick folds and the roll of his eyes is enough to indulge him and you slide down around him with ease.

“Oh god..” You whine, anchoring yourself to his shoulders “I missed this..” you pant.

“It’s only been two days..” Negan scoffs, sounding more in awe than you expect

“I’m so fucking horny all the time, Negan come on just fuck me please..” You breathe, lifting slightly to gain some friction

“Well, damn. We’re never leaving that bed now.”

“How about here first hon..” You giggle, kissing him hard.

In no time, sweat gathers on your forehead and dribbles down your chest where Negan currently inhabits, suckling at a nipple as he rolls his hips in slow torturous thrusts that have you shaking around him and tugging at his hair.

“Feel that? Damn babygirl..” Negan mutters driving home harder.

“Negan please, I can’t..” You whimper, resting your forehead with his own as he takes control of the pace.

“You just hang on, let me look after you for a little while..”

His eyes lock with yours as he studies the reactions to his thrusts. It’s mind-blowingly intense, more than before and you fall into him, moaning uncontrollably and no doubt the Saviour’s that inhabit the hallway can hear every one.

“Negan, you feel amazing..” you purr, rifling through his hair with one hand, pawing at his stomach with the other.

Your dirty mouth leads his hand to clamp on your clit, sending you directly into orgasm with no warning.

“Oh my god..” You cry out, meeting him thrust for thrust the exquisite clench of your walls shoves him unceremoniously over the edge with a deep moan that almost has you coming again.

Finally, as your heartbeat stuttered to normal, your breaths calm and sleepy Negan finally let you go, but quickly gathered you up into his side. Both still naked the suede rubs uncomfortably but you both make no move to get up.

“I’m sorry Negan..”

Understandably confused, he regards you quietly.

“I acted like a brat today, and you argued with Simon. I’m real sorry..”

“Baby. Do NOT be sorry. I love you and that baby, you know if it comes down to it; I’d kill him and every one of these mother fuckers for the both of you..”

Releasing a deep breath, your hand joins his on your belly

“If your Daddy doesn’t stop swearing, the first word that comes out of your mouth will be a curse. Now little Albert, I think it’s time to go to bed, don’t you? Hm?”   

It’s so hard to keep it straight, your pursed lips struggle to contain the laughter at Negan’s look of pure shock.

_“Albert.”_

“I think fucking _not._ ”


	4. Little Thief

 

You awake around midnight, just like every night this week.  Without the luxury of AC, you’re clammy and restless and roll over to lay flat, kicking off the covers exposing your rounding bump to the air.  There are no stars to light up the sky tonight, not even the lustre of the moon could break through the impervious mask of clouds.  Letting your eyes dip closed, you listen to the sleeping man at your side, his deep even breaths lull you into a pleasant doze.

A short time later you’re awake, again. This time by a light tickling sensation at your abdomen;

“Negan..” You sigh, attempting to swat a hand but open your eyes to find none.

In fact, your husband had spread himself out on his front nuzzling into the pillow.  It warms your chest and you can’t help but shuffle towards him, to run a soothing hand down his bare back.  He’s strong and vivacious but right now, he’s vulnerable and completely unaware of the tiny feet pattering under the surface of your skin.

At first you think about squealing, pulling him violently out of sleep at the new feeling but after the last few days, you think better of it and smirk into darkness and sink down and shuffle toward your sleeping husband. 

You brush your soft fingertips against his warm lower back in slow circles. Lifting your other hand, you cradle your chin, gazing down at his relaxed features and how it changes imperceptibly at your altering touch.  His dark brows twitch as your trail extends up his strong back to the broad shoulders you love so much.   

“Negan..” You hum happily, finally reaching the dense soft hair at the back of his head and he immediately responds with a sleepy moan and rubs his clean-shaven face into the pillow.

“Baby.” You whine and snuggle into his warmth as much as your pregnant body allows, moving your hand further into his raven hair.

When he doesn’t respond a third time you lean forward into the soft juncture between his neck and jaw to place small wet kisses intent to tease him out of sleep.  You know full well that playing dirty like this would result in wonderful retaliation but the tiny thief of your well-earned sleep strokes intently from inside, demanding attention.

Carrying on your assault you lap gently at the underside of his jaw, nipping playfully at the newly smooth skin eliciting a low hum from Negan who reaches out sleepily to wrap a large warm arm around your lower back. His dextrous fingers curl at the naked skin at your waist; the lack of maternity clothing the in the sanctuary has you opting for just underwear in bed more often, much to Negan’s delight!

Responding to his loving touch you nestle further into him and take a breath, inhaling his rich sent of soap and musky smell that’s pure Negan.

“Sleep..” he prompts with a deep purr, soothing your lower back in turn.

Unsatisfied with his response you remove yourself from his grasp ignoring the hard clamping of his fingers at your attempted escape, but unbeknownst to Negan aren’t running away from his rejection.

Returning to Negan’s embrace you press yourself against his chest, enjoying the smooth hair that rubs against your now bare chest.

Almost immediately a deep strained groan leaves him and his green eyes flutter open to latch onto your own in a daze.

“Mmm. Tease..”

A shiver flashes down your spine along with both of his warm large hands, you wiggle further into his touch when they come to rest on your ample ass and squeeze with gentle fingertips.

He comes to raise himself over your body, mirroring your previous position to peer down through the darkness at your flushed cheeks and hair spilt out over the pillow beneath.  You gaze in wonder at the large man that inhabits your bed, he’s all man; dark hair and eyes that read your emotions before you can speak and undress you with one look in equal measure. It’s strange, the way the slowly increasing dawn catches the newly exposed angles of his jaw and plush mouth that dips down kissing the sensitive soft skin of your neck, making you giggle and stroke lovingly at his flank.

“Mm, morning..” you mutter, breathless.

“It’s dark out.” Negan chuckles low, lips vibrating against your neck.

“Couldn’t sleep..” Your words are muffled against Negan’s lips when he kisses you, treating your waiting mouth with short but intense open-mouthed kisses. You squeal in delight when he withdraws from your mouth to massage both puffy breasts with hot hands, before delving face first into your bare chest licking and kissing intently at the over sensitive skin.

“Negan!” You laugh, but can’t hold back a moan and delve into his hair.

“God, baby..” You moan at the feeling of his tongue gliding lusciously over both nipples in turn.

You watch with lusty eyes as Negan places small gentle kisses over your belly, making you remember exactly why you’d woken him in the first place.

But he doesn’t stay and goes straight for the jugular, flattening his tongue in between your legs making you gasp in need and surprise.  Warm breaths ghost the wetness that his tongue left behind and you wriggle for more, catching his eyes.

“Oh!” You gasp and stroke lovingly at the hard jump in your belly. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Instantly Negan returned to your side hand covering your own in concern

“Nothing, hey sweets feel that?” You smile proudly, watching as Negan looks lovingly at the small movements of your unborn child.

“I love you, so much..”

You blink, taken off guard by the gesture.  You shouldn’t be, you know that.  You’re in love, but each time feels like that first time, though you’re glad this is in better circumstances.

“We love you too Negan; you’re going to be an amazing Daddy..”  Your sigh is muffled as you pull over Negan’s shirt that accommodates your stomach and cuddle into him.

“Mm, I already am Doll..”

“Hey, none of that now.” You scold, but can’t not laugh and treat him to hard kiss, looping both arms around his neck to play gently with his hair.

“You’re the one all over me baby, C’mere..”  

You obey and drape yourself sensually over his body, settling comfortably in his lap.

“You’re so beautiful..” Negan mumbles, enamoured and unable to look anywhere but you as you trail both hands ever so slowly down his toned chest, digging teasing fingertips into his abdomen, revelling in the groan it releases.

“Jesus..”

“Mm, not quite.” You purr, reaching teasingly into his underwear stroking soft and slow at his hardening length. His growls and needy lift of hips against your own only spur you further, prompting you to squeeze him and swallow every moan, growl and groan with your mouth.

His big hand cups the back of your neck and as your thumb twists over his head the hand delves hard into your hair, bringing your mouth further into his. Negan’s thumb rubs softly against your cheek, a sharp contrast to his tongue that flushes against your own in time to your thrusts that grow in pace.

“Like that Negan?”

The teasing use of his name seems to make him impossibly harder in your grip.

“Fuck, babe..” He breathes, barely able to get the words out.

“Come on baby..” You coach, pawing at his stomach as you pump faster letting your thumb coast over the head again and again until he’s rutting into your hips, both hands twist hard into the shirt at your hips.

“Fuck! Argh!” Negan growls, throwing his head violently back into the pillow.

“That’s it, good. _Ohh.”_ You gasp, watching the milky strings splatter his stomach and then it’s over.

Negan’s panting fills the air, his green eyes are still hidden from your view as he comes down from his high, still holding limply to your hips.

“Jesus Christ baby..” Negan breathes, pulling your body to lay flat on your back.

“I don’t deserve you..” Negan sighs, leaving tears in your sleepy eyes.  You watch Negan through glassy vision laying himself gently on your shirt covered chest.

“Shh, Shh. Just sleep..” You coo, running a soothing hand through the damp flopping front of his hair – your cool fingers lull Negan into a sleep and soon his breathing is deep and even along with your own.

You never foresaw this, back then injured and close to death in the back of the truck all those months ago. You’ve never been this happy, your precious cargo flailing happily, safely inside you all the while the love of your life rests satisfied and happy at your chest. 

You have everything you need.  Who knew it took the end of the word to get it.


	5. Heaven Won't Have Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been months! Life work and surgery have gotten in the way! This chapter isn't my best but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

 

The lazy afternoon haze had begun to ebb away as you made your way inside, hands full of fresh vegetables and fruit from the Sanctuary’s garden.  It was shaping up to be one of the hottest days of the year, but despite that, you had spent the day outside with Ally and her not so warm husband Mike.  On various occasions throughout the day you’d found him glaring in your direction, you thought about chewing him out, but thought better of it.  But the harsh stares and dramatic sighs lingered in your mind as you pad inside, careful to conceal your growing stomach with the large basket.

When inside, the reality of the situation dawns as it does every time you find yourself in the working section.  Families, Orphans and Men barter and trade just to live, ‘live’ being a word you barely wanted to use, it made you feel guilty for having such a life but the feeling never lasts; it’s quickly overtaken by the fluttering of small feet and you whisk off, ready for a decent meal and cool shower after being outside for so long.

“Miss, how are you?” A small voice stutters as you pass, smiling shakily in your direction.  You fight the overwhelming urge to smile at the dark-haired man that takes up the staircase, your scuffle obviously leaving a lasting impression.

“Sweaty and in dire need of a shower Eugene!” You snort, patting his shoulder not turning back to witness the look on his face. 

A few people look up as you reach the top of the indoor catwalk, almost like they’re expecting you to make a big speech, but that’s not you, it’s Negan.  A sigh leaves your lips, heavy with pent up emotions that are currently ruining the nice afternoon you’d been having, much to your disgrace.

Being so wrapped up in thought you stumble sending a few peaches and a stray broccoli from the basket.

The hustle and bustle of the Sanctuary seems to grind to a halt around you, silent as you pick up the discarded fruit.

“Here, let me help.” 

A voice you don’t recognise, young and cracking and you’re instantly righting yourself, wiping the dust off your pants to stand bolt upright, protecting your stomach from view.

_Oh no._

You’ve seen him before, long lank hair lays messily at his shoulders, coltish limbs barely fill his oversized clothes and the unmistakable absence of his left eye. 

Hackles rising, a dark glare fixes on the reason for the silence in the room.  Negan stalks forward, coming up to lay his arm proudly around Carl’s shoulders, unaffected by the visible flinch.

“Check this out..” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he begins the monologue, but what you don’t expect is for him to offer the hard-earned items in your grip. 

“Everyone gets free vegetables at dinner, no points needed! Courtesy of my lady wife, here!” 

Furious, you look through the boy and dead set at Negan who wears a deadly expression that you daren’t mess with.  Swallowing your pride, you follow Negan and Carl into the corridor.

The apartment was pretty much how it had been this morning, Negan’s blanket folded on the sofa and an array of bottles and playing cards strewn around the coffee table.  Indignantly you pass the two-other people in the room and head into the bedroom, quickly changing and returning in an oversized shirt and three-quarter length pants and begin tidying, tactfully ignoring Negan raiding the liquor cabinet.

“Carl, sit. Let’s get started, I want to get to know you a little better.” You continue tidying, listening to your husband’s torment of the Teenager.

“I-I can’t. I can’t do it. It’s like talking to a birthday present, you gotta take that crap off your face! I wanna see what Grandma got me!”  

You watch silently as the boy’s face changes, it’s painful and you find your mouth bolting before your mind can shut the gate.

“Negan.”

“Two men!” Negan barks, snapping his eyes up to yours.

Taken aback by the noise you touch the small bump but don’t shirk his gaze.

“Two men Y/N, punishment. You really wanna piss me off?” The dark sneer was aimed at the boy but you freeze, pinned to the spot by his deep warning.

 

The large apartment space was spotless by the time Negan’s torment of the young Grimes had come to an end.  To say you were angry was a giant understatement.  Watching your husband dig into a kid fills you with doubt that he’d be a good dad to your child.  You begin to dwell on it, but Negan’s booming voice drowns it out.

“Right! Kid. It’s spaghetti night and you are stayin’ for dinner!”

Negan clocks your incredulous expression, sauntering past to bark orders down the walkie.

Watching Carl leave with Dwight with orders to collect dinner is the last straw and you break the days long silence.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing! You have his son. His teenage son!” You yell, hurtling a pillow somewhere in his general direction.

“He killed two of our guys! Good people! He needs to learn!”

“And this is how you wanna do it!? Tormenting him and inviting him to dinner!” It doesn’t seem to affect Negan, who sits stoic and dark the head of the dining table.

“Be quiet. You’ve got no say here. None! You hear me! I own this place; these people are mine! You mess with the things I own, you die!”

“You’re an asshole you know that! First you let Dwight take over my Alexandria pick up and let him take a prisoner for fuck sake! Now you have Carl! You know what, I bet Grimes is plotting our death right now!” You take a breath, not giving Negan the chance to cut in.

“You don’t think how screwing with Rick will affect us! This is our baby’s future Negan! She’s not going to see her first birthday and it’ll be your fault! You! For fucking with them!”

You realise your mistake almost instantly. His expression darkens to something akin to evil and you stand stock still, frightened for the first time.

“She.”

“Negan, I..”

With a wave of his hand you were silenced.

“When the fucking fuck were you going to tell me?”  You expected him to shout, scream and storm out but his still silence sitting at the dining table was scarier than anything he could have done.

“I was going to, but we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms Negan. You sleep here, I sleep in there. You’re never here, I am.”

“You didn’t think about coming to find me? That this wasn’t an important piece of fucking information!”

“I’m not doing this. You’re being a royal fucking asshole at the moment Negan and I’m the pregnant one! Just give the boy dinner and let him go! I’ll drive him back myself!”

Before Negan can protest, the door opens and Dwight ushers Carl in, hands full of food which quickly diverts your attention.

“We’ll talk about this later.”  You know Negan must have the last word, always. But you ignore him and take first helpings of the food, eating for two is more important than ridiculous bickering.

“So kid, you got a girl?”  Negan once again breaks the awkward silence descending on the room, 

Clocking the grimace on Carl’s face you cut in, standing abruptly:

“That’s it! Don’t you think you’ve done enough, torturing him. He’s just a kid! And you wonder why I didn’t tell you. You don’t deserve that information Negan.”  The anger turns into tears quicker than you can control it, wiping fiercely at your face with the back of your hand you leave the room, unable to look at Negan again.

By the time you return, the table is tidy and Carl waits, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly.

“He left. Said Dwight’s taking me home.”

Any guilt, any feelings of regret that had grown since leaving the room evaporated immediately at Carl’s words. He still didn’t think you were up to the job, being pregnant felt more like a curse at this moment.

“No. I’m taking you.”

“But he said…”

“Don’t care, I’m pregnant not disabled. Come on, we gotta go.”

 

“Where do _you_ think you’re going?”  _Fuck._

“Back the fuck off. I’m dropping him off, assess the damage and try to deal with Daddy Grimes, no thanks to you Dwight!”

“He won’t be happy.” Dwight snaps, arms folded.

“He’s not happy now. So, what?” Your words are drowned out by the revving of the engine, done with this you speed off, relieved to be out of there for a day.

 

“Rick!” You grin, pushing your feelings aside when in enemy territory is something you’d perfected over the past few months, so you stand upright, head high and try not to engage in a scuffle.

“We had an agreement!”

“We started this off with me doing you a favour Grimes! Don’t waltz up to me looking like I did something wrong here!” You snap, stepping into his space.

“A favour! Christ..” His breathing quickens, jaw ticks. He’s getting angry, but you stand your ground, cool and collected in the face of very real danger.

“Negan could have picked this place clean! He could have killed your boy but instead I stepped in! I can’t speak for Dwight. He took your man Daryl and I don’t have that much pull. You should be thanking me!”

A shrill female voice screams. The girl Dwight had been messing with rushes up to you her hand holds a pistol steady.

“Thanking you? That asshole killed our friends! Someone’s father, husband! Thanking you, we should be gutting you!”

 “Put the gun down princess.”  You sneer, waving a hand uncaring.

“Grimes, you’re lucky he’s strong.” You sigh, nodding toward Carl who stands sheepishly behind his father, it almost makes you smile knowing he’d probably get an ass kicking later on. But despite them being an enemy, he’s still a child.

“What did he do to my son.”

“Look Rick, he’s unhurt and I brought him home. I’ve lost..” Thinking better of showing weakness you don’t continue.

“He’s home, safe. But I’ll warn you now, if you’re planning anything. A jail break, an ambush. Anything. I will kill you. All of you.”

The cock of a gun and you swing round, face to face with the Princess who had the nerve to aim the gun, but this time it was trained low and you daren’t move.

“Not if I kill you first.”

“Rosita.” Rick warns, flashing his blue eyes at the Latina.

“No! Her leader killed Abe! Glenn! Maggie’s baby’s father! Doesn’t that mean anything Rick!” She’s unhinged, yelling but her grip doesn’t waver.

“That’s husband, actually.” Having a smart mouth could get you killed, but the urge to one up them won out.

“Disgusting, one of what? Six?” 

“Fuck you!” This time it’s you who screams, pulling your own gun.

Fury floods your body, the instinct to keep the life inside you safe takes priority

“Put the gun down! Now! You’re mad that Negan killed a baby daddy? How about murdering a mother and her unborn baby. How is that going to sit on your conscious Princess?”  It’s a big risk, exposing your vulnerability to the inhabitants of Alexandria but dying was not an option.

“What. You’re?” It doesn’t affect her and it throws you off balance, it seems to make her angrier as if a child being born to Negan is worse somehow.

“How could do that? Letting his poison take root inside you, I should just put it out of its misery right now!” 

“Rick, seriously? This is the company you keep, god damn!”

Everything moves too fast; the world ends up on its head and a sharp blade presses insistently at your side accompanying the heavy weight of the barrel of a gun that’s flush with your temple. Voices scream and curse but you can’t place them.

“Rosita stop!” It’s the youngest of the voices who yells begging her to stop

“She stood up for me! She’s one of them but she’s pregnant, stop!” But she doesn’t stop, the blade presses harder ripping at the material of your shirt.  You’d made a mistake, an emotion fuelled mistake and it was about to cost your child her life.  This time, you don’t wipe the tears away and through the mist you spot the bag.

“Carl..” You splutter, flailing toward the bag hoping he’d know, hoping he’d want to repay your kindness.

Rick’s yells continue, pleading with Rosita to stop, that it won’t do any good. You don’t want their blood on your hands.  But she wasn’t letting up. 

Taking a deep calming breath, you pray that none of the crowd notices Carl slink round the back of them, you don’t see him speak into the device but the small chance is enough to keep your hope alive.

“Quiet now? Got nothing to say?”  She taunts, moving the knife up toward your flank.

“If you’ve got nothing nice to say. Don’t say it. That’s what my mom always taught me.”

Time seems to stand still, the voices are nothing but white noise all but one as she leans down, sliding the shining blade further with each word.

“Shame you won’t have that title anytime soon.”

You can’t show weakness, vulnerability or pain in front of the enemy.  You remembered, back at the beginning, Negan’s words repeating like a mantra – but the pain was too strong and you cried out lashing with violent hands scratching and pulling at her face and hair, even when the knife came up in defence you didn’t let up.

“Get her out of here! Into the cell!” You hear Rick yell, it feels like you’re down a deep drain everything echoes and nothing looks the same.

He’s the enemy. They’re the enemy but somehow Rick Grimes tries to stem the bleeding pushing at the wound with Carl at his aid shouting into the walkie. 

“No, I don’t need your h-help..” You sob, batting concerned hands but you’re slipping. As you try to push off the warm ground your wounded hands stick to something hot.

You lay dying in a pool of your own blood, cradled by Rick who still holds steady to the wound but as you look up at him the reality of the situation comes crashing down. Your child is dying, you’re dying and it’s getting darker by the second and before long the glimpses of your surroundings come in flashes of consciousness.

 Bright light and a booming scream is the first thing you see when you awake again.

“Hey, wake up. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me!” 

You whine, desperately reaching for your husband who tries to hold the gauze in place. Someone else is here in a room you don’t recognise, a woman with shaking hands and crooked glasses.

“I love you..” You sob, clutching the leather of his arm with white knuckles.

“Stop that Doll. You’re not going anywhere!” He’s panicking, cradling your body tight and warm.

“Hurry the fuck up!  If they die, I’ll kill every motherfucker in this place! Fix it!” 

Negan’s screaming, battling with Rick who looks as if he’s going to pass out and but Carl is hard and steady helping the doctor assess the damage.

You yell out as she injects something cold into the wound, but soon enough the pain seems to dull slightly, letting your body go lax but your grip on Negan’s arm never lets up.  You don’t feel safe here. 

“Don’t move, please!”  A stuttering voice pleads.

“Let me go!” You yell, thrashing against her cold hands

“What the fuck did you give her!  I swear to fuck if you’ve done something to her, you and Lucille are going to get real fucking friendly!” 

“She’s trying to help! Keep her still!” Rick seems to find some balls and steps up toward Negan

“Hold her shoulders.”  Rick snaps Negan must obey because in a blink you’re pinned to the bed unable to move much under the weight of two grown men.

You look up at Negan with watery eyes, trying to find some comfort from the sharp pain

“You’re alright Doll, stay still now..” Negan soothes, his gaze never leaves yours as their Doctor stitches the wound. 

“Okay.” The Doctor, you now know as Denise flitters around in cabinets to find a bottle of pills and a wound dressing.  “You have to take two of these a day for infection and up to four a day of these for pain.”  She speaks in a steady voice this time, but her glassy brown eyes give away her nervousness.

You let her clean and bandage your slashed hands, luckily the knife didn’t do any tendon damage.  

“The baby..” You croak, trying desperately to sit up but a searing flash of pain forces you back against the bed.

“As far as I can tell the baby is fine, the blade didn’t puncture the uterus.” 

“Who did it.”

The blood drains from the doctor’s face, fear widens her eyes at Negan’s presence taking over the small room. 

“She did it..” You stammer, growling at the way your body starts to shake fear betraying you.

“Who fucking did it Grimes.” Negan yells, flinging Lucille in his direction. 

You watch Rick shuffle from foot to foot, no longer the fearless leader he portrays.

“Rosita. Rosita did it.”

Your open your mouth but the voice that renders the room silent is once again a surprise. 

Negan, Rick and the doctor turn to face Carl who stands arms folded, no emotion.

“Kid. You never fail to fucking impress me you know that! Going against your people, fucking people up!  You little serial killer kid!”  Negan laughs, all teeth and wolf eyes.

From your place on the bed you witness Rick blink rapidly, staring in shock at the betrayal of his son and you wonder what happened to make him this way – stone cold and unapologetic.

“Carl.”

“She tried to kill a baby! Just like Judith, fuck if they’re the enemy! A _baby_ dad!”  You never anticipated this. One of them, defending you of all people, it doesn’t seem real.

“Your kid. Defending us! The look on your face Rick! What a turn of events!” Negan breaks the silence, howling with laughter.

“She’s one of us.”  Rick tries to stand his ground, but even the Doctor looks as if Carl read her mind and doesn’t back Grimes as he looks for help.

“Bring her to me Prick, if you don’t I swear to—“

“No.” 

They all turn, taken aback. 

“Doll..”

“No. Keep her in the cell. I want to be fit and well when I look that bitch in the eye and bash her head in.” 

“That’s my girl!” 

Negan steps up to your side, challenging Rick with a look that holds him to the spot.

Looking around the room, Rick Grimes seems to realise that he’s quite frankly outnumbered and no one, not even his son is willing to let up. 

“Fine. But under one condition.” 

 

“I want Daryl back.”


	6. My Girl

Everything had changed.

Not behind closed doors. Not in the private Sanctuary you and Negan had made for yourselves. Not in the way the little life grew stronger every day.  It wasn’t so obvious to those around you, not even Negan had noted the change in your eyes, in your stance as you walk around the Sanctuary silent and guarded. 

“You listening Doll?” 

Nodding yes, you both continue to walk. In reality, hearing only snippets puts you at a slight disadvantage when Negan directs a question at you, staring in your peripheral.  You hadn’t been paying attention, even more so as you walk off toward the stairway, bumping hard into something.  

Instantaneously your hand tears for the knife waiting in your boot, holding it to the throat of Mike, who’s pressed to the wall but shows no fear, in fact he stares darkly into your eyes, something deadly sparkling behind them.  It prickles at your skin, igniting the swirling heat in your stomach that you had not left behind in Alexandria.

Blood trickles slowly down his collar bone when Negan’s voice becomes louder, his large hand tugging at your leather-bound shoulder. Even then it takes the bark of your name to bring you back, the dusty smell of the Sanctuary around you coming back to life.

“What do you think you’re doing?” It’s accusatory and harsh, but does not come from the man now tending his wound at the wall, no the voice is Negan who stands towering above you waiting and silent.

“Nothing. Are you coming or not?” You snap, undeterred by his piercing stare. You know he wouldn’t understand, you’re not sure that you understand the feelings that weight heavy in your mind. So, you walk away, not sparing Negan a glance as you leave for your room.

 

You suppose you’re lucky, standing under the warm water letting it clean your skin and soothe the pinkening scar that serves as a reminder every day that you survived, you’re both alive.  But, it’s nothing but a permanent mark of your weakness.  How you weren’t strong enough to protect yourself and the life within, it becomes the root of your tears that trickle down your face and twist down the drain.  

Negan is nowhere to be seen when you return, there’s no sign of him as you dress for the night or receive a visit from Simon, who graciously deposits dinner on the counter for yourself.  Smiling you unfold the note, appreciative of the extra helping of cucumber on your plate; a seemingly healthy craving that’s been plaguing you lately.

You’re never alone, but now laying cold under the thin blanket back twinging against the couch you feel emptier than ever. It hasn’t been easy since returning from Alexandria, everything is a threat, each person who inhabits your home only ever has eyes for you, burning and mean.  It puts you on edge, forcing your hand and today it hit its peak, pushing you to injure an innocent person.  But you don’t feel guilty.  Outside these walls, surrounded by strangers and friends you bring it back, digging deep for the strength and a ferociousness that rivals even Negan’s when tested.  For that, you don’t feel guilty, you must protect your child.

But here, safe behind a locked door and guarded corridor you let go; allowing the flashes to come, the residual pain to take hold and the tears to stream down your cheeks.  It’s the self-deprecation that hurts the most.  You failed. Trying to scare the people of that town, not backing down in the face of danger got you almost killed.  The tears don’t stop, only slow with your breathing.

“Sweetheart?”

“Y/N, wake up darlin’”

“Mm?” Barely awake, you mumble cuddling into the blanket for warmth.

“What’s wrong Doll?” Negan presses, the leather of his jacket creaks as he crouches by your head, running a leather clad hand over your cheek, soothing and warm; it lulls you into blissful doze.

“You’ve been crying.”

You would deny it if it was anyone else, but there are no barriers with Negan; you just nod tucking your head into your chest when more tears come.

“Hey, sweetheart... Come on now, what is it?”  Two fingers prompt your chin to come up and reluctantly you look him in the eyes. They’re warm and concerned, something that’s been absent for a while.  You know just by the way he’s been distant, that you’re not alone in your trauma.

“I failed Negan..” You sigh, catching on a sob.

“You got hurt, it wasn’t your fault.”

Without warning Negan pulls you forward turning to join you on the large grey sofa, pulling your shaking body into his lap where you rest against his chest like a child, wrapping your arms around his waist, warm inside the jacket.

“I nearly got her killed. She’s not even born and almost died because I couldn’t let it go..”

Negan’s silent. You know he can’t deny it. Your hot-headedness put you in danger and nothing can prove it wrong. He doesn’t shout or push you away but pulls you in, letting you cry and take comfort in his smell and calm with the slowing beat of his heart.

For a while, the both of you are silent inhaling each other; you’re soothed by his form, large and soft, your hand fondles the soft and dark grey shirt that fits him well enough that you can easily feel the smooth lean plains of his back. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

 Blinking through sticky lashes you peer up from Negan’s neck. He looks far away, gazing blankly into the darkness that’s taken over the room.

“I was an ass Doll, if I hadn’t had left you wouldn’t having fucking gone to that place. I fucked up, Y/N, I’m sorry..”  Outside, just as you are, Negan is vicious and powerful; but here, in your Sanctuary it’s just two people and you’re grateful.

“I love you..” The tears come, soaking the collar of his shirt but you don’t wipe them away. Gently bringing it up, you place his hand to rest at your rounding stomach, holding it tightly with your own.

“She’s strong. We’re strong. Just like you.”

The look in Negan’s eyes, doesn’t need words it ignites the flame in you that’s been dwindling and forces you to pull back from his chest pressing your forehead to his own to whisper;

“I love you, and I’ll rip the world apart to protect you, to protect our family. I made a mistake. I’d do it again if it meant you were both safe. Even if I had to die to save you. I _love you. Always.”_

His green eyes are watery when you pull back, offering him a small smile with misty eyes of your own you don’t say more. It’s all there in your kiss; his soft bristles brush your hands as you take his face in hold, pressing harder into his mouth. Desperate hands make their way to his chest, giving you leverage to sink into his form.  Quickly you’re enveloped by large warm hands that cradle your back, holding you tight and safe all the while his soft mouth leaves short but intense kisses on your swollen lips.

“I love _you..”_   It’s muffled by your mouth and you giggle, running your hands in opposites; one trails down his chest to settle at his stomach – the other delves gently into the raven strands of his hair.

Slowly he leans against you, pressing his chest on your own, moaning quietly at your attentions in his hair, a particular fact that you’re happy to note for later.  It makes you smile, giggling lowly as Negan’s mouth moves sensuously down your neck dragging his wet, warm tongue down it’s expanse, drawing out an involuntary moan that has your head tilted back in bliss.  Seeing the opportunity, Negan explores lower kissing down your chest, removing the strap of your tank to expose a breast. They’re tender; his lips, hands and tongue soothe them with ease. 

Closing your eyes, you take a slow breath cradling Negan’s head as he continues treating your body.  A thought though, creeps in and you find yourself laughing, distracting Negan from his attentions.

“What’s so funny?” Negan asks, gazing up at you with confused eyes.

“Was just thinking, when the baby gets here, you’re gonna have some competition my love!”

A hot burst of air hits your chest and he laughs, deep and rich. It’s warms your heart, having Negan laugh and be happy is something rare these days especially after the accident; you find yourself drinking it in watching adoringly as he pulls your shirt back up and dances his fingers over your bump.

 “She’s going to be small..” You muse. It’s something you’ve been meaning to do, check in with Carson.

“She’ll be perfect. Just like her Momma.”

That, almost brings you to tears.

“Negan?” You hum, settling down to curl into his side, all the while he never leaves your stomach.

“What do you want to call her?”

He’s silent for a while. You’ve thought about names, but one has never stuck. Before all this, children didn’t come into your mind very often but now..

“Something strong. Just like her mom.”

“Like her Dad, too..” 

Overwhelmed with the adoration in his eyes, you blink smiling softly.  It evokes something soft and you kiss his cheek in a tender gesture.  It seems to surprise him and he stills titling his head into your hand that strokes his hair. 

It hits you then, a strange thought that forms a name you’re guaranteed will fit her perfectly.

“How about Raven?”

Negan hums, testing it out on his tongue a few times over.  It stops your heart, hearing it twice over in the rich deep tones of his voice.  Your daughter, the child made in your undying love for him and him you.  You’ve never felt this way, seeing more than just your husband, but your child’s father.  It brings something out in you you’ve only reserved for fighting and violence.   The pure unadulterated instinct.

Suddenly Negan gets up, scooping you up into his arms. You shriek, giggling as your grapple to hold on. 

You crawl into bed easily, glad to be warm and comfy in the soft sheets.  Negan is quick to join, laying on his side, eye to eye.

It’s silent when he kisses you, soft and sweet.

Negan grins, stroking gently at the small feet that flutter under the surface.  

“Raven..”

“My girl.”


	7. Judge, Jury, Executioner.

You wait. Sitting in the Sanctuary’s small garden, watching the gates. Ally sits dutifully by your side cuddling a sleeping Harvey in her lap. Mechanically you practise the knife skills Arat had been teaching you over the past few weeks. Your fingers move agilely over the handle, spinning the glistening blade in intricate shapes.  

Breaking the quiet you grunt and rub the sore spot as little feet squirm restlessly under the surface. Pulled from your task you look down; the movements have become more erratic lately.  Picking up the abandoned knife you spot Dwight crossing the courtyard to the three of you from the front gate.  You squint at him as he approaches.

“Hey,” he nods, shuffling on the balls of his feet both hands dug deep in the vest pockets.

“What’s wrong with you?” You pry.

“I’m sorry. For Alexandria.”

Moderately intrigued, your brow rises and your voice catches a bit in your reply.

“Me getting hurt wasn’t your fault. But Daryl was. You can pay your debt, starting with him.”

He looks confused, Ally who had stayed seemingly oblivious turns her attentions to you.

“ _Jesus_. Clean him up. Make him look like he hasn’t been thrown in the damn pit for weeks. Give him a decent meal and meet us at the truck.  We’re---“ You grit your teeth, breathing through another hard prod at the ribs.

“Today’s the day. Negan won’t be long.” 

Then he’s gone and the sun shines bright in the absence of his shadow.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You got me!” Ally chuckles, nudging at your shoulder “Why are you being so nice to them?” For a second you can’t control the look that flickers over your features.

“Sorry. I’m just mad.”  Rubbing the back of your neck you massage the sore muscles and take a deep breath

“I want them happy with Daryl, so they let us kill that bitch.” The words are like poison and hit hard, Ally being out of the action, she wasn’t used to the violence and viciousness that the Saviours see and it’s blatant in her gaze.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Her voice is far away, but she directs it at you, “You’re different. Harder.”

Turning back toward the gate you think back in silence. It had been months since you met Ally, and yes things had changed.  As much as you didn’t want it to affect your relationships, it was evident the stabbing had started to infiltrate your life here.

“More reason to kill her..” You think out loud, shaking your head at the walkie static breaking the tension.

“Come up baby, it’s time to go.”

“Now it’s my turn, what’s wrong?”  You frown, pulling your heavy body off the floor.

“Nothing..” 

“Well, tell you face. Ally, I know you. What’s the matter?”

“It’s Mike. He, he’s been acting different, distant and hearing Negan sweet talk you like that makes me realise what I’m missing..”  Your heart sinks at her confession, knowing how hard it is but something sets your hackles to rise, remembering not a few weeks earlier – his eyes on you, burning and critical. 

“I’m sure it’s just the stress, you both work for points and it’s bound to create some tension.”

It seems to have an effect on her, the cogs turn and she sighs deep mulling it over.

“How about I babysit Harvey tomorrow? Give you guys time to yourselves? He’s loves me and Negan could use some practise! How about it?”  You smile, stroking the head of her sleeping child.

“Thank you, though I’ll have to speak to Mike. I’m not sure he’d be happy..”

You stare through her, finding it hard not to take offence but don’t pry. You Negan wouldn’t take too kindly at a stranger taking care of your child either but you know there’s more to it.

“Is this fucking thing working? God damn. Baby, come up we gotta fucking go..”

“I heard you, I’m coming..” You chuckle, fumbling with the walkie strapped to your side.

“Alright Ally, I’ll---“  Ally is nowhere to be seen when you turn around.

“Bye..” You scoff, heading inside the Sanctuary.

 

Inside the suffocating building you put on the hard mask, no expression adorns your features when you walk through.  Some people kneel at your presence, something you hated since the beginning watching the inhabitants think less of themselves. You don’t berate them but don’t leave them without a look of surprise still, after all this time.

When reaching the top platform, you can’t help but look out at The Sanctuary, proud of Negan for achieving such a feat and now you have a glimmer of a future, a family. 

“Um, Mrs Negan?” 

_What the—_

Startled you twist around, amused by the strange title that’s befallen you in the community. What you didn’t expect it to be was a girl, a teenage girl dressed in dirty clothes and blood seeping through an equally disgusting bandage on her head.

“What happened to you?!”

Ushering her over to you, you rush to sit her down but come up with nothing to quell the bleeding.

“I fell, must have hit my head.” 

“Are you sure?”  The gash is nasty, but straight – not the mark of a fall. But the girl stays silent, nodding briefly before groaning and clutching at the wound.

Knowing Negan is waiting you grab the walkie, urging him to meet in Carson’s office.

In hindsight, that possibly wasn’t the best decision.

“What it is?”

“Oh, you better be jokin’” Negan comes to a halt reading the room to land on you.

“Jesus Christ Doll, I thought. But it was this? What the fuck are you doing in here?” 

“She came to me for help Negan, she’d hit her head calm down.” You tried to placate him but your rapid call through the walkie had obviously scared him more than you thought.

“Hey..” You soothe, abandoning the girl to take hold of Negan’s arms.  “I’m okay, we’re fine. She just needed some help. It’s alright.”  He doesn’t seem to take it as you thought and grasps your bare arm with his leather clad hand, effectively pulling you from the room.

“What was that? Jesus Negan!” You grumble, following a few paces behind him as he strides through the hallway.

“Negan!” He doesn’t respond, disappearing up the stairs to your apartment.

He only speaks when the door is secured, regarding you as you stand stock still arms folded and waiting for an explanation for his weird behaviour.

“You gonna tell me what that was about? Dragging me out of there? I was trying to help her!”

When he stays completely silent you can’t stop yourself from yelling;

“That girl was bleeding! She told me she fell but that cut didn’t look like a fucking trip up Negan. She was hurt, on purpose.  Right here. Someone hurt a kid, and I would have found out who if you hadn’t taken me out of there like a naughty child!”  

“That girl is none of your concern! You should have come straight to me! We have business to attend to!”  He roars, and there is no doubt the other Saviours on your level had heard.

“She’s someone’s kid! You thought about that? Oh, wait no because you only think of yourself!” You’re screaming now and it isn’t healthy for you or the baby, that alone should be enough to silence you but it doesn’t.

“Shut your mouth. You’re out of line!” His voice echoes around, loud and demanding.

“What if she was our baby Negan? Think about that, let that sink in! What if someone left her to bleed, because god forbid they had murder to attend to!”

“Murder! Is that what it fucking is now?  I fucking thought it was ridding the earth of the fucker that nearly gutted you and that baby!”

“Screw you! Put words in my mouth Negan go ahead, before you know it the next word will be—“

“ _Quiet!_ ”  He screams, stepping forward.  “Shut your fucking mouth!  We’re going to Alexandria. Unless you want to let her get away with it.” His fury deflates but the anger in his eyes is sharp as a knife and cuts you deep.

Swallowing through the lump in your throat you hang your head, the floor becoming more than interesting. 

“No Negan, she’s not getting away with it.  Are we going to the truck or not?” You might be backing down, but you won’t let him get away with it either.

“You alright Kiddo?”  Simon tries, more than once to catch your attention but you daren’t speak Negan marches ahead and you think better than to defy him again. So, you give him a nod barely concealing the tears that threaten to escape.  

 

The atmosphere is heavy and felt throughout the vehicle. Each Saviour is silent, eyes fixed on each other or at their feet, except one who stares hotly at the back of your head unaware of the fact you’re watching him study you through the rear-view mirror.  You know then that it’s obvious Simon had been an unwilling ear to your argument. Frankly, you don’t care who heard but after his stunt in your apartment you had barely spoken, it was odd but you didn’t think to care.  The only thing on your mind right now are Negan’s hands; both held white knuckled against the wheel, breathing heavy and staring into the horizon.  On pure principle you don’t reach out, leaving him to fester alone.  

You’re barely a mile from the gates before Negan speaks, pulling the Saviours to the edge of their seats. You can see nothing but determination on their faces, willing soldiers to Negan’s cause, it makes you feel somewhat inadequate but you know that despite everything you’re as ruthless as them, and now is the ultimate test.

“At my side.”

Negan is out of the truck before you can blink, smashing the heavy bat hard against their rusted gates. 

“Here. Come on..” Thankfully, Simon extends a hand which you take gladly, appreciative of his offer.

“Thank you..” You whisper, squeezing his plush upper arm before moving off to take your place, albeit a little reluctantly at Negan’s side. 

“Who’re you?”

“Oh christ..” you whispered to no one, pitying the man safely behind bars.

He was strikingly different to Negan; his hair the colour of wet beach sand instead of a rich ebony. His lightly tanned face littered with a five o'clock shadow and his eyes - muddy and dark.

“Negan. I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression!” 

A strange stirring spread about the palms of your hands and quickly you shove them into your pockets, away from visible sight.

“Rick!” 

Negan’s elated whoop shakes your attention, watching the blue-eyed boy sheepishly pad forward to the gate, pulling it open in one easy move.

“Where’s Daryl. We had a deal.”  It’s low and demanding but Negan doesn’t flinch smiling manically at their leader who doesn’t back down.

“Simon.” 

Most of Rick’s inner circle had funnelled in, flanking him silently.  Every set of eyes turn instantly to Daryl. Some gasp but others don’t show any emotion at the cleanliness of Rick’s right hand man.

“See. We took care of your man Rick! No scrapes and he can even see outta that fucking mop a’his! How about a thank you Rick?!”

You watch the pain on Rick’s face flicker, jaw ticking before biting out

“Thank you.”

It’s painful, cringeworthy even and a small smirk just barely raises your lips.

“Ah, ah! Not before I get to _her.”_

No one expects you to speak. Especially not Negan who swings round, as if you stole his thunder but there isn’t a protest. Just expectation. And just like that, the stage is set.

“An eye for an eye Rick! You get _nothing._ Not even the hair on his fucking _head!_ Before I get my hands on that bitch.” 

“She’s not going with you.” Rick bites but you’ve got no time for his empty words and you react, rushing forward as quick as you’re able to hold Daryl by the scruff. Silver shining at his neck.

“He dies! You’ll watch him bleed and turn if I don’t get her!” The scream tears out of your throat so hard it hurts but you don’t care, there’s nothing else that matters but this.

“You better do as the lady says. Even I know better than to piss off a pregnant woman Ricky boy. But, you know about that, already right?”

Negan would be dead. Stone cold if looks had any influence. But still no one makes a move to grant your request, so..

The growl that comes from the man in your grasp has everyone shouting, screaming and crying as sticky crimson pours down your arm, dripping down the leather to splatter disgustingly onto the hot cement. 

“No! No, no no. Please stop!” 

A girl shrieks as your knife continues its path. Rick rushes forward as does Carl whose once kind eyes had frozen into icy pools.

“What the fucking fuck!” Negan screams, roaring at your unexpected move.

He tries to tear you away but doing so the knife digs harder, tearing deeper, too deep to be repaired now.  Guilt. A small flicker flashes as the girl screams louder cradling his dying body dowsing herself in the blood that he so desperately tries to breathe through.   Then it’s over.

“Want that..” You struggle, the reality of your actions sinking in. You can’t bear to look at Negan for the disappointment that you may find there, but if he won’t protect his child, you will.

“Want that to happen again?  No? Well then, get me Rosita before I gut every single person _here!”_

Tears coat your face, shining in the sun but no one notices. Not the saviours that stand silent. Not Negan who doesn’t take his eyes off the blood and Daryl’s lifeless body in the arms of his love.

That could have been you. It nearly was.

You can’t think about it. Desperately willing the thoughts to disappear you focus on Rick fleeing into a house opposite along with the woman you’d trampled not months earlier. You can’t have emotions, not now. Not yet. Not here.

It’s less than a minute before she’s carted out, pale and crying. Just like she should.

“Hi there. Princess.”

“Y/N!” Negan tries, but you don’t care. In fact, you barely pay him any mind.

“What did you do!” She screams, clocking Daryl now still. Already given the dignity of not becoming one of the dead walkers. That you’re glad. Just for a second.

“That’s what you get when you cross us. Actually, when you cross _me.”_ You grin and sneer hard at her as she struggles against Rick and his woman.

“He didn’t need to die!” She’s screaming, pulling and crying against them but to your surprise Rick doesn’t let her go.

“He didn’t have to, but that wasn’t up to me. That, was all on you! Rick Grimes.” The force of your words hit and hit hard each one twisting the man’s expression.

“You’re coming with us. Rules are rules! And so are promises.”

“Your blue eyed boy here. Your leader. Wanted to trade you for him. How does that feel? Knowing he’d let you die. Hm?” It’s dangerous, baiting the bear a bear that had nearly taken your life and the life of your child once before.

Her eyes flicker to Rick’s, just for a second the warmth emptying from within them.

She lurches forward, flinging Rick’s girl to the ground running forward, straight to you.

“No.” Negan tries to defend you, but you’re quicker; the knife that took the life of her friend slices through the softness of her gut.

“Game over.” Baring your teeth, you growl loud like an animal eyes lighting up at the wet splatter of her intestines hitting the floor.

You have seconds, but crouch down by her head stroking sickly at her forehead;

“I’ve heard it’s cold down there, night princess.”

 

You leave, the screams and cries of families and friends are but whispers when you reach the truck and fade into nothingness as it grinds to a halt at The Sanctuary grounds. You haven’t spoken since, and Negan himself never looked your way again in fact he went as far as to change cars riding with Dwight in the vehicle ahead.  It would bother you, if you were able to think about anything else than the tacky blood caked in the hair on your arms and its sticky pool in the warm crook of your elbow.

People stare. You swear you witness a shocked Ally being ushered away by Mike out of the corner of your glassy gaze, but maybe not. Maybe it’s just a bad dream.

It hits you then. The smell and sight of hot blood twisting down the drain. Blood that used to fuel two lives – one of an innocent, a man that was caught in your crossfire.  It was your fault.

You cry, sinking down into the cold wall to cradle your knees in despair. 

The small life inside you must sense your anguish, kicking almost violently.

“I did it for you.” You breathe, but it catches on tears and you let out a wail that bounces off the tiles

“I’m sorry.”

It takes longer than you ever expect to collect yourself, succeeding in compartmentalizing. At least for a little while.

The balcony doors are chattering in the wind when you peer out of the bedroom. It’s hard to see him, black jacket fading into the dark night.  But smoke from a rare cigarette blooms and twists then disappears.

“What’re you doing out here?” You pry, soft and low.

“Negan?” It’s wobbly and you try desperately not to cry again.  

But he stalks away, jaw clenched and a look that challenges even Rick’s death stare cuts you like a knife and your heart tumbles out its bony cage to lay among the ashes in the dirt.

The door of your bedroom swings shut, but as you reach the corner of the room it flies open followed by a big blanket at v pillow and slams shut soon after, two signature clicks in its wake.

“What the—“

“Negan!” You yell at first, slamming the door with the flat of your hand, pain radiating up the bone

“Look, just..let me in and we can talk. Please? 

But your pleas go unanswered even as you sob, forehead pressed against the wood.

“Negan, please..”

But, nothing.

You were left, standing alone cold and waiting for a response that never came.

 


	8. Resurgence

 

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, not weeks after and still, now. 

It was dark when pain forces you off the couch.

Cramp radiates over the expanse of your stomach, turning the surface to stone. It’s harsh and takes your breath away, leaving you grasping the velvety material, every breath as painful as the last. You barely choke out Negan’s name in alarm. 

Harsh breaths escalate into tears blurring your vision. Shaking hands fumble for purchase on the surfaces and you at last can reach for the door handle.

“Neg—ah, Negan..” You sob, but are greeted by a cold room and rumpled covers.

You can’t do this alone; instincts tell you it’s not labour, you know that, but without Negan for comfort dread takes hold and you can do nothing but cry out into the empty room.

Sucking in a hard breath, you sink into the cold mattress and inhale Negan’s scent lingering on the quilt. Over time it calms your racing heart in turn quelling the tight pain and for a moment it’s all okay. Negan might not be with you, but knowing he was, for now is enough to bring you back.

It doesn’t last.  This time it’s the edge of dawn, pale blue light drifting in from the large window.  But it’s what you hear that sets your heart racing; the screams and a piercing howl from a blonde that kneels at his side, holding desperately at his neck. 

The man you’d pushed to be released. The man you’d silently snuck food in to when given the chance. The brother, friend and lover you’d murdered lay dead in cold blood as an empty shell.

_Your first._

Negan always did the killing. It was an unspoken rule that he stopped you from giving that part of yourself, the shred of innocence that you held in this life.  The thing he loved.   What he treasured had been obliterated in a second and you can’t think of anything else. 

Walking, sleeping, eating and even breathing came second. The wary eyes and judgmental stares didn’t scratch the surface going about your day on autopilot, it was all you could think about.  The blood still coated your hands and face, clinging to fruit and vegetables in red wounds when plucking them from the ground. Crimson bleeds onto the basket and each person carries your shame with them on their way. 

“You alright there?”

An unfamiliar voice has your hackles rising and despite everything, the instinct to protect that innocent life that had been eerily still all night, takes hold and you flee scrambling up from the floor and away a couple paces.

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The sandy hair and muddy eyes you’d seen before, any hope of peace from the rerun of that day are crushed when you meet the man’s concerned gaze.

“I’m Spenc—“

“You’re from there! Stay the fuck away from me!” You yell, staggering back the first stab of fear hitting your chest.  You focus on staying safe, determined to keep any more blood from spilling today.

“Easy. I’m not going to—“

“Hurt me. Why wouldn’t you?”   Straightening your back and clenching your fists in barely restrained fury you being to shake.

“I left. Negan..he came to get me. I asked to come here..” His voice is steady but nothing will convince you now.

“Why would he do that? You’re one of _them.”_

“I don’t want to be there, Rick isn’t who everyone thinks he is and Daryl..” He begins but a cry cuts him off, it’s raw and broken; and yours.

“I killed—I killed him.”  You cry, over and over like a mantra, like it hadn’t been running around in your mind every second. 

It’s then that you lose the thinly veiled control over your fragility and slip down to the floor, but the blow, the hard punch of concreate never comes; instead you land in warm, soft arms and a kind face.

“You’re okay. Just breathe.”

The man with the kind voice sinks with you to the floor, gentle not to hold you any tighter than comfortable.  It has the desired effect and your breathing begins to slow, but nothing can stop the scene replaying in your head. 

“Come on now, in and out. It’ll stop, trust me. It helped me when...”  You know he’s trying to explain something but he must change tactic and there’s a moment of stillness before you’re enveloped into his embrace, comfortable and it begins to take effect.

“There we go. Look at you, you did it.”  

Under any other circumstances you would be furious at the patronizing tone but it doesn’t matter now, you’re safe and any previous thoughts had faded into the rapid beat of a new heart. 

Muffled voices accompany a bustle of activity behind the both of you, and you feel the exact moment he steps out.  Everything is silent for a minute and the man surrounding you tenses hard, but his heart slows intently.

“Get fucked. Move out the damn way! I’ll shit all over your points for the week if you don’t shift!” The voice booms, slamming heavy boots down on their way to your level.

“What’re you doing boy?” 

“She was upset. Didn’t want her to hurt herself.”  Spencer explains.

“What do you think you’re doing? When we took you in, we gave you _rules._ You break them you die. You wanna die…Spencer?”

“No sir.”

“Wow! I think, you might have a brain cell or maybe even two!”

“I think, I’m gonna need a kneel out of you.”

Simon grins manically at Spencer who flounders in the man’s enigmatic presence, but doesn’t flinch when he kneels.

“Aw! That’s a solid kneel Spencer my man.”

If you’d hadn’t been so silent, you may not have heard the low whisper

“You touch her again, you die. You hear me little man?  And, it won’t be pretty.”

The sinking feeling sloughs through your organs, sending them to the ground.  Simon mirrors Spencer’s previous position and two fingers urge your wet eyes to his own.

“Y/N? Look at me.” 

 “Hey there kiddo, come with me.

Gingerly you move from the cold floor, grateful for Simon’s large arm around your waist when climbing the stairs toward the apartment. Several judgmental looks catch your attention on the way. You expect it, but not from Ally who wears a glare identical to her beach blonde husband who towers over her.  It’s the last straw and you begin to sob, so much so more people turn to investigate the sound of the noise and Simon has to scream at a few who look a little too long.

Before long you’re in the safety of home, greeted by a warm glow of the evening’s fire and the smell of hot food. But ice cold radiates from the far side of the room; Negan sits behind the confines of mahogany, dark rimmed glasses resting on his nose. You clock the red scribbles stark against the white hand drawn map of the local communities and the sinking feeling returns.  He’s planning something. 

“Negan. Looks like some hot food for Y/N is in order?”

“You’re telling me this because? She’s a big girl now, I’m sure she doesn’t need you or me babysitting.”   You watch Simon’s face change; anger, shock and determination all play out unrestrained and it prompts a hot surge of rage that flies readily down your fists. If you had anything but the fabric of your shirt in your hands to throw.  But no, instead the fingers of both hands curl tight, palms bearing the brunt. 

“Negan, you don’t understand I—“

“Simon!” The scraping of his chair rakes the linoleum as he stands, blanking your glare and puffy eyes.  “Get the truck ready. It’s Thursday!” Negan chirps, oddly happy at the idea of returning to the place you had turned into a blood bath a few weeks prior.   

“That’s my pick up.” You snap, standing your ground against your husband who turns on his way out to glare hard in your direction, obviously angered by your defiance once again.

“Not anymore.”   Instead of reeling back, you fly forward striding toward him a few paces, anything you can do to get out some aggression.

“Don’t you dare bench me. I killed, I killed him.” You wobble, stammering over the resurgence of harsh sensory memories.

“I’m the alpha here, I can do what I fucking well please.” His nostrils flare, eyes wide and dark.

“Not with me. I’m not just your little _wife_ Negan!” You growl, “I’ve never been your ‘wife!’ I’m a Saviour too, or has me picking up after your shit and keeping you happy clouded that part too?!”  Blood pounds in your ears, making it slightly harder to hear Negan’s ox like breathing in the now quiet room.  You know him, the way his jaw ticks in quick succession, how his usually hard grip on Lucille is looser than ever.

“You’re not going.”  You expected more, shouting, raging – anything but this almost blasé response.  “Not after that motherfucking stunt you pulled!” 

“I wish I didn’t, didn’t do it! I hate myself for it.  His girl’s screams are keeping me from sleeping! I can still feel Daryl’s blood on my hands! It’s everywhere!” Say his name.  You must say his name.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That it’s killing me? Is that it?”  You choke on the last words, but try to take a breath.

“Stay here.”  It’s barely a whisper as he goes to leave.

“I did it for our baby Negan!” You scream, grappling at one of the glass candle holders on the table you fling hard, relieving the hot wash of anger running to your fingertips.  The violent smash is heard around the room, glass flies in several different directions and barely misses the side of his face.  But you’re not scared, if anything the rapid dissipation of anger leaves cold numbness in its wake.

Negan on the other hand tenses up, firing back.  He throws Lucille blindly, cursing up a storm.  

“Fuck you.”

“Negan!”

“NO! Fucking, fuck you! Using that child, our girl as a fucking weapon! An excuse to go around fucking up. A mother fucking big ass excuse to pummel my workers, getting yourself sliced and oh, don’t forget your biggest fuck up to date!  Murdering Rick’s right hand! Well fucking played! Dear wife.”  He screams, each word, hell every syllable hit the mark cutting you to the quick. But he doesn’t stop there.

“I fucking recall you saying something about my actions endangering our Daughter. Well. Pot, kettle black! Jesus fuck. You’re _staying_.” You daren’t speak, or even breathe as he strolls forward into your space.

“If I get a damn whisper of you even planning to make a move. I won’t be responsible for my actions. Understand me?” 

“Yes. _Yes._ ” A deep breath tightens your response but at the slam of the door you slide down to the floor.

Sobs claw out of your throat, strained and raspy and painful, like you’re coughing up razor blades. The hard floor is freezing, but you’re already cold, icy and trembling. Shaking fingers brush gently over your stomach, tracing the dark blotches of salty tears staining the material it’s been a while since she’d moved, leaving you feeling more alone than ever. Even now there comes no response from your tender coaxing. 

“Come on sweetheart.”  Swallowing hard you try and dislodge the lump stuck in your throat, “Please.” There comes nothing, and for the first time in months you feel completely and utterly alone.

 Your eyes are red. Breathing slow. You’re not sure what happened in the last, ten minutes? An hour? Either way, there is still no movement.

Then there’s the unmistakable slam of the heavy door.  He’s here. He’s isn’t happy. But you weren’t a fool, expecting nothing less than his loud footsteps.

He passes you, lying in your bed. He doesn’t notice the way you stare through misty eyes and off white covers. The way you silently let the tears soak into the cotton. But you see it all; the tightness in his stance. The hard press of his teeth that ground his jaw and no move is quiet.  Something happened. Though, you daren’t ask. He may not think it, but you know better than to poke a raging bear, even if it’s killing you not too.

On his way toward the door a miracle happens, something that you’ve not seen in weeks; a flicker of concern, feelings that don’t resemble anger or resentment in his eyes. They stare intently into your own, red sunken, exhausted eyes and for a moment you think about running, leaping up and wrapping yourself in his arms but you won’t. You can’t.  He’s gone.

 

The apartment is flooded in darkness by the time you’ve stopped for the day.  There hasn’t been a sign of your husband since this morning. You’re worried, even more so since hearing whispers as you passed the dining hall on your way to collect your meal. This time, not a soul glanced your way, no one dropped to their knees and the lack of Saviour presence frightened you more than anything.  

In hopes of finding Negan you briskly walk back up to the Saviours floor; loud booms of several dorms echo through the dingy hallway, music and laughter of the many people living here surround you but no one sticks out.  Simon, Dwight and Arat who usually have a patrol shift at this hour are notably absent. Don’t be upset. You tell yourself, unwilling to break the hope that Negan isn’t far away, nestled at his desk.  But it’s cold, empty and dark and the only sound is blood pumping in your ears like an ocean.

“Negan?” You yell, hoping for the shower to halt and him to waltz in, at this moment you would settle for an angry greeting or moan at how you’re interrupting his shower.  However there’s nothing but deafening silence.

 

It’s been hours.  Hours since you walked the halls, radioed for Dwight. Several long painful hours with only yourself and an equally as silent Raven for company.  Hours since Negan screamed, throwing harsh words and sobering realities.  It’s fucked up, but you miss it.

“Dwight. If he’s telling you to ignore me, just please let me know he’s okay. That’s all I want..” It’s barely a whisper, you know it’s unlikely he will ever hear your pleas but it’s past two in the morning and you can feel yourself getting desperate.  

Ignoring the dread and the tightness in your gut you move, blindly wandering through hallways and peering into empty rooms. Dressed in nothing but some scruffy maternity jeans and one of Negan’s shirts the night chill hits your body harder than normal but your comfort is pushed to the wayside, Negan is priority now.  He had never been away this long, he had never been on more than an afternoon’s run since you fell pregnant. Deep in the dark recesses of your mind you have to fight to suppress the kind of fear you haven’t felt since feeling the blade tear into your body unable to do anything as you were nearly killed. 

“I’m not specifically qualified for this assessment but I suggest rest and a meal.” 

Gasping you turn abruptly to glare at the dark figure. Eugene steps into the yellowy lamp light, arms folded, greasy black hairs falling into his eyes.

“I, I can’t tell you what to do, but you are well into your third trimester…”

His voice fades as you spot something, someone stumbling out of a loud room clutching their face. Pained groans fill the corridor and you can just see his dark blonde hair climbing out from between long fingers. 

“Spencer?”

“Ugh, ow.”  He slurs, coming into focus a little. 

He’s bleeding profusely from a deep gash, it tears from his hair line through his brow and barely misses his fragile eyelid.

“Oh, god. He’s in there isn’t he.”  He can’t hear you, Spencer doesn’t register your form above him, too busy trying to stop the bleeding. 

“Eugene!” You call, knowing the Alexandrian traitor is still watching.

“Yes M’am?  I, I mean Y/N?”

“Take him to Carson.”  

You’ve seen this wound before. Lucille’s barbs were always well aimed.

It was fear. Fear and worry fuelling your feet but now, pure anger rises again.  You know then that Negan got wind of your interaction with Rick’s former friend, no doubt from Simon who must have his own agenda but you can’t dwell now.  Negan’s here.

With a hard push, the heavy door creaks open and you’re able to go in undetected through the beat of a booming song.  Dwight, his girl – Sherry, Simon, Laura and Arat are gathered around a round table throwing cards and shouting, merrily at each other. Empty beer bottles and a half-drowned bottle of Tequila pile in places around their feet.  Under any other circumstances you’d be happy that your friends and fellow Savours were having fun in a time like this but any happiness and joy for them is quashed underfoot at the sight of Negan.

“Oh, my god.”  It attracts some attention, Dwight and the rest of the Saviours immediately clock you and in turn their faces drop.

“Negan?”  The words get caught in your throat, jumbled and it comes out as a choke and you can only bow your head in dejection and pain that starts somewhere small.

The blonde slowly removes herself from Negan, withdrawing from the side of his head where her lips whisper obvious sweet nothings in his ear. No one speaks, moves or looks away as you blink tears down your cheeks for the world to see.

Then the breath leaves your lungs in a sharp, hot burst and the scene moves.  A tight harsh cramp rips through your abdomen again and you’re helpless, doubled over at the edge of the room swaying back and forth, ignoring their urges to sit down, to relax that Carson will be there soon. 

“No!” You respond urgently, shoving their hands away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You cry through gritted teeth, just able to disappear from the stifling room and into the hallway. But you’re not alone for long, Arat and Negan fall out of the door yelling and for a second you hear worry, Negan’s terrified cursing but you’ve had enough, reached the end of a tether that’s been too long.

“Simon..” You whimper at the sight of his heavy boots following Negan’s.  “Get Carson for me..” you’re freely crying, which quickly turns into terrified sobs at the unwelcomed sticky feeling that turns your legs to jelly. 

“Nope. I’m not having this fuckery!”

Negan shoves powerfully at Simon, pushing his arms away from your failing body and effortlessly scoops your body up and into his arms.  All the way to Carson’s office you fight, kicking and tearing at his leather and scarf but he holds fast and doesn’t attempt to dodge your back-hand to the side of his face.

“Carson!” 

Negan bursts without preamble into the office, shocking a busy Carson out of his well-placed stitches in Spencer’s forehead.

“Put her down gently!”  Impressively, the normally nervous Doctor quickly sets to work lifting the shirt up to the underside of your bare chest to carefully prod the hardening surface.

“What the fucking hell is wrong with her!”  Before Carson can answer you scream; not through pain but pure rage at the emotions flooding your system.

“Get him out! Son of a bitch!”  

You scream at Negan through tears, thankful that they blur his face.

“Sir, I think..”

“No! No, I’m staying.”  It’s soft and imploring but you don’t get to decide the sharp stab does it for you urging your head back into the pillow.

“What the mother of fuck, is wrong with her Carson!” 

“It’s, uh it’s Braxton Hicks, sir.”  Carson stutters, rifling through boxes of medication to fish out some Tylenol that he swiftly deposits along with a glass of warming water into your hand.

“Take this, it’ll help. It’s all I can do I’m afraid.  It will pass. Just try to relax. The stress won’t help. So, I suggest, with, with respect I suggest you leave..Sir.” 

Shockingly Negan does as ordered, not without a violent slam of the door for good measure.

“Thank you.” You breathe, pain finally subsiding.

“That may have cost me my job. But it would have cost you that child and that isn’t something I am willing to have happen Y/N.  So, you are welcome. You should take Tylenol with you, for the pain.” He smiles kindly, perching his thin frame on a wobbly stool at your side.

“Braxton Hicks is nothing to be concerned about, and neither is the spotting you’ve experienced.  Both are relatively normal.  Your body needs practise for the real thing and unfortunately that was it. But not to worry, it will subside. But I do suggest no stress, yes I know that is easily said than done. But it is my order as of now Y/N.” 

He’s right. You know that.

“Stress comes as part of the package with Negan, you know that Carson. Especially now we won’t be together much longer.” You cough, letting some indignant tears go.

“Young lady, you really think that’s happening? I have never, in my years here have seen Negan that worried. Never and I doubt in my lifetime that I will see it again.  A-and as for the girl. I may know something about that.” 

“What..” Taking a deep breath, you prepare for the worst, but do not anticipate what Carson has to say.

“The young girl, with the head wound? You remember?” He waves offhandedly at his own head “The girl at the party is that young ladies sister. She knows who attacked her.  That’s been Negan’s mission since the moment you walked her into my office.  It’s to the best of my knowledge, the only reason they were engaging in such close quarters.” 

“Really Carson?” You scoff, unable to believe that, after his rage about the situation.

“Yes. Really. Now, can the both of you put this to bed.  If I may? I’m particularly tired of interrupted sleep. Especially with my job, you see?” 

A strange sound escapes you, a laugh? 

“I make no promises. But I’ll try..”  It’s sad and distant, you want to repair things.  After everything it can’t be this that breaks you.

“Thank you. Now, I can hear him pacing out there. I’d quite like to keep my head, even if it’s a tired one now please, let him come in. Oh, and no fighting in my office, I have another patient.”

It’s then that you realise you haven’t been alone. Spencer lay quietly, observantly in the corner of the room, partially stitched and waiting.  You’re able to give him the briefest of nods before Negan walks in, unusually slow and silent.

“What’s wrong with her Carson. They better be fucking okay or I swear to god!”

“We’re fine. It’s okay..”  You can’t look at him, you don’t want to cry again.

Negan leans down, kissing your forehead. After weeks, it’s so unfamiliar you flinch.

“Seriously?!”

“Stop, please. Just take me home..” 

By the look on his face he doesn’t expect your request, but obeys anyway and you accept his leather clad arm around your waist.  You don’t let it become a conversation, not yet. 

Negan lets you go behind the bolted door of the apartment, he doesn’t speak when you leave the room to shower and dress for bed.  He hadn’t moved when you return, knowing that you have to talk about this today.

“Are you going to talk to me Doll?” He pleads, reaching for you.

“What have you done Negan..” You sob, shaking.

“Nothing and you know it. Just come here to me..”  He beckons and somewhat reluctantly you sit next to him, damp hair dripping onto the couch.

“I was an ass. A royal ass Doll. But I love you, even if I don’t deserve it.”

You cry, folding pathetically into his arms.

“At that place, I didn’t mean to.. I, Negan I’m so sorry..” 

“I’m not gonna pretend to be happy about what you did. I didn’t recognise you that day. You were ruthless, it was hot.” He laughs. “But you were like me. I never, ever wanted you to be me Y/N. I love you, because you’re you.” He smiles, stroking your head as you cry.

“You’re not me. You’re fierce, determined, helpful. You love these fuckers like your own family and see the good in people. Even an asshole like me.  You’re not me and that’s the best part of you.”

“I love you, and as for being a damn Saviour. Girl, you will always be a fucking Saviour! You’re the best in my ranks, even better than Simon, who has the biggest motherfucking girl crush on my woman!”   This time you’re the one that laughs, loud and genuine for the first time in so long.

“I had my suspicions.” You mumble into his neck.

“I’ll always be yours.”

“You’ll always be a Saviour, my wife and so much fucking more Doll.”

“I’m sorry Negan. For Alexandria, and what I said.”   

“No, none of that girl, just kiss me.”

Happily, even covered in your own tears you lean in kissing his warm lips softly, full of purpose and passion. You lean into his body, as best as you’re able enjoying the soft rub of his beard and the warmth of his gentle tongue reacquainting itself with your own.

Your kissing though, is interrupted by your squeal.

“Hey there Doll, I haven’t even gotten to the best fucking part yet!” Negan laughs.

“Finally.” You sigh, overcome with relief.

“She’s moving. She’s been so quiet!” You coo, grasping Negan’s large hand under your own.

“Obviously fucking happy to see her Daddy.”

“Hey.” You poke him viciously in the ribs. “No swearing in front of her!”

“Oh baby.” Quickly his lips are on yours again,

“You think cursin’ is bad, you should see what I’m gonna do next!”


	9. ThIs Ebony Bird

It’s the early hours of Sunday morning when you wake, bleary eyes open to the faint light of dawn creeping in through the bedroom window.  A very disgruntled something – or rather someone flops down on top of the covers and burrows into your front with a funny little grumble. It’s a noise that you recognise instantly: the sound of an irritated Negan at the end of his tether.

He shifts looking up at you and immediately his lean but muscular figure is pressing up against you, long legs entwining with your own as best as they’re able. Cool hands slide under your shirt and up over your spine. That’s the thing about Negan. He’s a full body hugger, but only here, only with you.  Stretching as best you can, you smooth back his dark hair.  His responding groan is muffled. You smile into the semi-darkness.  “What’s the matter, love?” With a huff, Negan turns over onto his back and sighs;

“Grimes. They’re planning something. A little birdy told me..”

“A little birdy huh?” You quirk an amused eyebrow at the image.  Negan shoots you a glare, and you giggle, unable to help yourself.  “Sorry,” you murmur, eyes dipping again as he fidgets closer. “Go on, tell me what’s going on.” You pry, stroking gently into his hair.

“We met another group. Dirty trash heap weirdos but word is Grimes’ bartering for guns and explosives.”  Instantly you clam up, tensing around him.

“I thought it was over..” You breathe, skimming your fingers lightly up and down Negan’s ribs, he mumbles, “Never fucking over, it won’t be over until I burry those fuckers in their own front yard.”

You shake your head, fingers now titling his scruff coated chin. “No Negan, it’s not a loss if you take a step back.”  That obviously is not the answer he wants to hear and you can feel the tension rising in his body.  “I don’t want to talk about them now Negan.” You snap, once only. 

Moving closer Negan nuzzles right up into the crook of your neck, brushing a kiss against the gentle beating pulse there.  “Yes Ma’am.” Another kiss, open-mouthed this time, hot and sweet on your skin.  His eyelids flutter at the slow lustful movements of your wandering hand. Quietly he rumbles;

“Darlin’, what’re you doin’?”  But you continue moving down his body, slow and lazy.

“Just relax.” You soothe, meeting his eyes where he rests at your chest.

Negan’s puff of air warms your chest as you reach his jeans sliding a hand into the pieces of fabric to stroke gently at his hardening length. But instead of pumping hard and fast you tease him with slow shallow movements that don’t reach the base. 

“Jesus baby..” he moans, trying to kiss your chest but does nothing but groan as you tease him and twist your hand in short bursts, leaving Negan panting and sloppily trying to fuck into your fist but you’re in control here and reprimand him with a pregnant pause.

“Ah, ah. No.” You hiss, barely containing the giggle that threatens to burst free. And Negan, who has become completely boneless under your attentions goes suddenly very still.  _Bingo_.

It doesn’t happen often. Negan becoming completely submissive, giving up his usually tight control. It urges your hips to rock forward and soaks your panties to have a man like Negan, a grown, powerful, murderous man silent and hard under you.

“Stay quiet” You whisper into his hair, “Wouldn’t want your men to hear you beg for me now, would you?”  

Growling, Negan burrows his face into your chest kissing and nibbling desperately at your skin.

“Good..” Rewarding him with a kiss, you drift through the soft hair at his stomach down to his waiting hard cock and begin, slowly and torturously pumping him, all the while squeezing your thighs together to match the rhythm.

Surprisingly he obeys, panting and gasping as your movements become faster, pushing him further and further toward the edge but as you feel him clench, it’s then, that you stop and it drives Negan to whine pathetically into your chest.  His own rises and falls over and over again, the hair there mingles with sweat that coats his entire body in a shine.

“You’re killing me sweetheart.” He moans, wriggling in your hold.

You let out a little laugh, and can hardly believe that Negan is being so pliant.

“I swear to god, you know what’ll happen if you carry on Darlin..”

 _“Negan.”_ You gasp, eyes wide, “That’s no way to talk to your wife, _Darling.”_ Then he’s up and over you, glaring down at your indignant expression.  But to his surprise you shove hard at his shoulders, not expecting you to defy him he loses purchase and topples back onto the covers.

“Really Doll?” It’s gruff and demands an answer but you swing a leg over his waist and paw at his face rubbing your fingers gently over the scruff that’s gathered on his cheek in the last few weeks. You daren’t shake his gaze while pressing a hand under his jaw to squeeze dangerously at this throat. It earns you a deep growl of warning though it does nothing but turn you on and you hum distractedly and take in his naked body under your clothed one. 

“You’re so pretty baby..”  Your eyes flicker up to meet his, pinning him down with the sheer unadulterated desire he sees there and Negan’s breath catches.  Briefly, you wonder if it was a mistake, that he’d lurch up and punish you but your gaze doesn’t waver as you take hold of him again.  Pumping slowly, you take in your lower lip when his eyes roll back, that wondrous mouth that can spit poison and soothe wounds drops open with a peek of his wet tongue that draws a shining strip over his own bottom lip.

“There we go..” You’re starting to become breathless, your own arousal gaining steadily at the pure sight of your husband who rolls his hips up, panting and whining for relief. But you deny him, taking him to the precipice only to draw back. 

“Doll..” It’s broken and begging and you gasp as the seam of your pyjamas hits just right and somehow, you’ve come before him and it takes a few silent seconds of laboured breathing to realise. But Negan however is so wound up over your touch, it goes unnoticed. 

“What Negan?” Finally gaining control over your own breathing you hum distractedly, fighting with laughter.

“You’re killing me—“ He gasps, locking onto your eyes with a watery gaze.  You stroke his clammy forehead in reassurance.

Leaning down, lips a tortuous whisper away, “What do you want?”

“I swear to fuck!” Negan growls, but you know better than to be afraid, he’s red and sweating and completely under your control.

“Oh, see now Negan; bad language doesn’t get anything.” You tease, twisting your grip gently around him and the noise it produces sends a wave of heat to your core and you moan in reply.

“Please..”  Negan stammers, rolling himself into your body in a desperate attempt to gain your attention. 

It’s welcomed, the uncoordinated kisses that shake across your neck.

“You’ve been so good my love, I might just forgive that little slip.”  Humming you pump faster and squeeze harder, only withdrawing for a second to gather your own release to slick him up and it has the desired effect and he moans loud and long, mouth open, teeth bared. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come undone around you, gasping and soaked in sweat and his own slick and soon enough you join him, lying flat on damp covers breathless and satiated.

 

“Jes-us! Maybe I should let you take the reins more often.”  It sounds far away, muffled by the blood surging in your ears.

“Hmm, you liked that huh?” You giggle, rolling as best as you’re able into his arms so you nestle comfortably into the junction between his neck and shoulder.  He kisses lovingly at your head, all the while stroking purposefully against your large stomach.

“What made you think that?”  Negan teases this time, but you’re left hanging as he stops still

“What?” You lift from your place at his neck and look curiously at him.

“She’s not kicking..”  Not anticipating the response, you run your thumb over his hand where it rests at your stomach and settle back down, struggling to keep awake.

“She’s probably just getting ready to make an appearance. I hope..”

“Mm..” He doesn’t sound convinced and it starts to worry you.

“Negan. She’s going to be fine.  Just promise me you won’t go looking for trouble?”  You sigh, fighting with the images of Negan in danger.  “We don’t need trouble, especially not now. It’s barely a week until my due date and if you believe Carson she could be here as early as tomorrow.”

It’s exciting but you feel yourself hugging tighter to Negan, pulling his arm closer around your body as the reality of the situation starts to sink in.  Before the world went to shit, pregnancy and birth were relatively easy, but now with medicine low and surgery a mute-point, if anything were to go wrong…

“We’re going to be fine.” 

 

It’s been a week. One long week of sleep, and boring blissful normality. No runs, no pick-ups. Just you, and Negan who’s mouth leaves a wet path down the gentle slope of your neck as he snuggles lazily at your back.  Long arms and large hands wrap about the bump that houses your child. A child that in Negan’s mind is as stubborn as you, so he’d taken it upon himself to help.

Warm fingers slide from your stomach to nudge at your knees and under the blissful influence of Negan’s lips you oblige and whine as his slender fingers swipe gently at the side of your clit working you into a frenzy in seconds. 

“Jesus Negan..”  Panting you grind desperately against his arm that holds steady in between your legs. 

Blindly reaching back, you delve into his hair, stroking and tugging just how you know he likes and he treats you to greedy hands and harder kisses, sliding both fingers inside your wet heat and you buckle, panting and moaning his name into the pillow.

“Good _girl,_ come on darlin’” Negan’s deep rich voice tips you over the edge and his gravelly moan drips into your ear as you clench, giving him what he wants repeatedly.

“There we go baby.” Negan’s hum is muffled by his long fingers dipping into his mouth and it almost has you turning into his arms, but the need to pee is overwhelming!

“As much as I’d love to continue this, I really have to pee.” 

His childish moan fades away as you rush into the small bathroom, cramps once again tightening the surface of your stomach.

“You’re really taking this, practising for labour thing pretty serious huh?” You chuckle, flipping through the thick pregnancy book pages that Carson kindly gifted on your last visit.

It isn’t long before Negan pounds on the door.

“Come on, now I have to fuckin’ pee! Y/N? You gonna speak to me, don’t leave me hanging sweetheart.”  He pounds on the door again but you’re hesitant to speak.

“Ugh, Negan go away. I think..” You pause, puffing out a long breath of air, toying with the decision to go on.  “I think I’m sick, just pee in Simon’s room!” You try to blow it off, laughing at the ridiculous image of Negan holding himself and bouncing around like a child.  But as you sit, you’re worried, chewing on the thoughts that rattle around in your mind.

“You didn’t sound sick when you were coming all over my—“

“Negan! Oh my god, do I need to spell it out? I’m—“

“Fine! Fucking hell Doll, no. I’m going, you need me you call. There’s a walkie..” He’s sincere and you almost laugh at the walkie propped up with the toothbrushes!  Since becoming practically housebound, Negan had taken to leaving them about the house ‘just in case’

Taking the radio, you laugh into it; “I love you!” 

 

 

He walks through the Sanctuary, purposeful and hard. He commands attention – each person; man, woman and child stands still – listening intently. His barbed wire accomplice screams against metal bars.

“We survive, we provide security for others, we bring civilisation back to this world! We are, The Saviours. I know it’s not easy, but there’s always work there’s always a cost! Here if you try to **skirt it,** if you try to **cut that corner**! Then it’s punishment, for you.”

The inhabitants of the sanctuary look on, confused but no one moves, there’s no sound.

“I need you. I need my best men, women and whoever the fuck else has the balls to do _this!”_

Several sets of heavy footsteps tread forward into view.  Dwight, Simon, Arat and Laura stride out, heads high.

“Anyone who respects the rules, who wants out of this hole! Who are willing to risk their life for the cause – sign up now. You _will_ be rewarded. Because _we,_ are going to war!” 

 

The water shakes in your grasp as you lift it to your lips. You try desperately to ignore the vicious stomach ache that ties you to the couch. You’ve spent the better part of the day here, or wandering out to the balcony overlooking the day to day running of the Sanctuary. You watch sadly at Ally who goes about her day below, pottering in the gardens with Harvey at her side.  You hadn’t spoken for weeks, but knew she had seen you heal and grow but no words had been said – in fact, every time you had tried Mike had conveniently been in the way, or had been quick to make up an excuse as to why they had to go.  She’s alone, but your mind is firmly elsewhere, in the stifling apartment skipping from the bathroom to the balcony for some relief.

It's early evening when Negan returns. With a slam of the door he bounds in; “Evenin’ sweetheart!” he grins hazel eyes glowing with happiness and pride.

“Negan?” You groan, picking yourself up off the couch to greet him. 

He kisses you before you can speak; soft, slow and languid – a chance to savour.  Both arms wrap around your waist, rubbing in circles that soothe the ache in your back and you melt into him with a quiet moan. Negan entwines his fingers in your hair, sinking his fist into the back of your skull to deepen the kiss. When his hand moves cunningly between you, you, with causal ease, reach down and stop him.  Holding firm to his wrist, you peer up through your lashes to look in his gleeful eyes;

“What’s got you so happy?” You smile sweetly, sinking into his body for a cuddle which he accepts gladly, resting his head atop of your own.

“We’re doing good baby.” The rumble in his chest soothes your pulse and you pull back just slightly to watch him; “The Sanctuary’s a well-oiled motherfucking machine and my girl is nearly ready to pop!”  You shake your head gently and one corner of your mouth offers him a small smile.

“I love you so much Negan..” You sigh, sliding your hands up his arm to his face, thumbs stroking his scruffy cheeks. “She’s going to be beautiful. With having such a handsome Daddy.” You coo, kissing him, softly tugging at his bottom lip with yours, adoring him in the best way you know how.

“Mm, I love you too baby. My girls, are gorgeous. But their daddy has to go..” He tapers off, stepping back as if you were to lash out.  But you prop yourself up against the couch and look at him soberly;

“You best not get into trouble Negan.”

“What if I do? Are you gonna fucking punish me Doll?” Negan smirks, licking at his lower lip in the way he does, but it doesn’t have the desired effect and you scoff loudly.

“I’m serious Negan. Your daughter is due any day. If you’re dead or fucked up who’ll take care of us? Of this place?”  The question stops him, asked with a seriousness that settles in his gut and makes him turn to face you again.

“It’s just a pick up, it’s my job to fuck up Gregory the great!” He swings Lucille enthusiastically at the door smiling as if your worries are nothing but a minor inconvenience.

“Can we talk about this before you go flying out that door. Can’t Dwight handle it?”

He paces, chewing on his bottom lip rampantly.

“Dwight couldn’t scare a child! I’m the alpha here darlin’.  I need to set an example to them. I own them. It’s in and out, I’ll be back by sunrise.”

“I want you here, I need my husband right now Negan. But, I know you. You need this..” You sigh, rubbing your tight stomach in slow soothing circles. “Please be back by the morning. Just promise me that..”

Negan strides up toward you, crushing your aching body into his chest.

“Trust me?”

Instantly you smile, warmth spreads in your chest at his words. They transport you back to before this, before your pregnancy, back when things were new and frightening.  But your answer was and will always be the same;

“Always.” It catches in your throat but you stay smiling and squeeze his warm large hands.

“Go. Be the alpha, baby. Then come back to your girls..”

“I promise, now will you get some sleep!” Negan grins, throwing on his jacket.

“I’ll be there when you wake up Y/N..”  

Then he’s gone…

 

The road is empty but one car, a hulking ebony truck with a soft roof. To the untrained eye, it’s just a car but to Rick Grimes it’s the most important element of his plan. He’s still. Silent at the edge of the tree line watching the tiny speck in the distance set it into motion.

“Looks like we’ll be home for dinner ladies!”  Negan whoops, slamming his fist down onto the large dashboard celebrating a job well done.  The pick-up had gone well, Gregory had been…unhinged that was clear in the way he flounced around the place, stammering and shaking like a frightened rabbit.  It made Negan stronger somehow, soaking up his fear and energy to boost his own.  He was a dark presence, a terrifying shadow looming over the Hilltop and its residents.  Each one cowered in fear, there had been no fight.  It was almost too easy.  But Negan neglected to notice, caught up in ego and triumph.

“We’re eating good tonight! Thank you, Gregory, the mother-fucking----!!”

A loud bang disorientated each passenger, some yelled and others cursed at the violent jolt of the truck as it swerved onto the opposite lane, catapulted across to smash into a ditch below the road.

The road to the Sanctuary laid ahead. The sky above was a rich orange, the evening wind blowing the leaves from the dying trees into the road. A trail of glass and metal lay strewn around the dusty road; for a while there was no noise, just deafening silence.

“Did anyone make it?”

An unfamiliar noise infiltrated the ringing in Negan’s ears but as the ringing faded out came an agonisingly familiar voice.  Grimes.

Negan spots Dwight and Simon coming to in the rear-view mirror, more of the pick-up crew were shaking off the panic and it’s a minute before they realise what had happened.

“What the mother fucking, shit!” Negan screams, kicking hard at the broken driver’s side door sending it skidding across the grass, a hard line scratched into the dirt.

Rick’s face drops, not expecting anyone to have survived the attack but he has a plan, always a plan B.

“Grimes!” Negan roars, surging toward Alexandria’s leader with a viciousness that sent Rick flailing backward not expecting the barbs of Lucille to connect with his flank.

“Stand the fuck up! You fucking fucker!” Negan screams, throwing punches over and over until the leather glove that adorns his hand is coated in blood.

With a defeated groan Rick stands, but to Negan’s surprise a hard fist connects with the side of his face with blinding force.  The dark spots disorientate him and he tumbles to the ground holding fast to his eye.  In the distance there’s a buzzing, a fuzz that echoes in the back of his head. It doesn’t feel real, but as the fog clears as shadow darkens his vision further and distracts from the alarmed voice pleading at his hip.

“This is over. You murdered our people, my family! Your wife slaughtered my brother! This is for them!” The bearded blue eyed man stands high over Negan who sneers slowly reaching for Lucille while keeping constant eye contact with Rick who doesn’t waver, clinging to the colt.

“Negan!” a broken whine silences Negan, but Rick isn’t so.

 _“_ Jesus Christ, Negan ple _ase_ I need you. I think I’m in _…oh my god,_ labour.”

“Oh no no no!” Rick yells, bitter and jaded stamping down onto Negan’s wrist pinning it into the mud.  Unable to respond to the cries and painful whines.

_“Aahh! Please come home, please. I can’t do this without you..”_

For the first time, since before, Negan is terrified and lets out a tortured roar.

“Fuck you Grimes. Your boy got back safe and mother-fucking sound, after killing my men! You’re dead, you piece of shit. You are so fucking **_dead!!”_** Negan doesn’t hold back, letting every sharp scrap of anger surge and once again Lucille dutifully defends her master and takes Rick out from below.

“You have no clue; how much you’re going to regret having done this in a couple minutes!” Negan growls tackling him to the ground, effectively swapping their positions. Almost instantly Lucille is summoned once again slamming down repeatedly onto Rick’s left leg, then right until the howls of Rick Grimes overcame the screams on the other end of the walkie. 

Blood trickles down into the cracks of Negan’s teeth and he’s barely able to see the crumpled crying man in a heap on the floor but that, along with the searing pain in his leg does not stop him from crouching at Rick’s side.  His large knee pins Rick’s left hand against the ground, and slowly pushes down the head of his barbed wired accomplice into Rick’s palm. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re fucked. You stupid fucker.”  It’s when the wood of the bat grounds against the grass that he withdraws, panic suddenly returning.

_“You promised you’d come, argh, home..”_

“Y/N? You hang tight, I’m on my way sweetheart. Y/N?” Negan breathes through the device but there’s no response.

“Shit! Simon! Dwight?” Negan screams, suddenly aware of the rest of Rick’s group but finds one of his right hand men dead and the other huddled in the corner, trying desperately to quell the bleeding of a bite in his arm.

“No! No! Fucking mother of FUCK!”  In a desperate bid to gain some control of the dwindling situation Negan brings a knife up and over in one big swing to save the life of the man that had been there since the beginning. 

“Dwight! You hear me? Come on man, we have to go!” 

Ripping off his precious scarf, Negan wraps Dwight’s bleeding limb and lifts his unconscious body toward the Sanctuary.

The world is as silent. The sun is still resolutely below the horizon and the angel is as dark as an old school black and white movie.  A man struggles toward home, a dark hollowed out factory that holds something precious.

“Open the mother fucking door!” Negan screams and on recognising the voice the gate is flung open and he’s met by the giant frightened eyes of Mike who’d been on watch duty.

“Get this ass wipe to Carson. NOW!” 

Then he’s gone.

 

The hallways were pitch black when he heard it, it tore through Negan like a shard of glass.  Everything was spinning.   It came again, desperate, terrified…human.

Negan hurtles blindly through the heavy double doors of their apartment, but he’s met with darkness. Tripping over blankets and bottles of water he scrambles up toward the chink of light under their bedroom door.

“Y/N, what’s… _oh..”_

Blood swipes across your cheek as you wipe away tears. The pain is ebbing, it’s uncomfortable and sticky in your place as you sit sobbing on the floor at the bottom of the bed.

“Oh my god, sweetheart..” Negan cries falling to his knees to crawl toward your naked frame.

You cry, hiccupping through deep breaths. Through glassy eyes you peer up at your bloody and battered husband, crying as you are.

“Negan, meet your daughter..”


	10. Painting The Roses Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months after giving birth alone, things have changed, people lost, but this time a bullet may not be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I apologise for being gone soooo long! Anxiety and general life crap have been mad so here's a lovely uplifting chapter for you all. With no eyewatering cliffhangers.

  _It’s cold when you open your leave the large bedroom, pulling the black robe tight around you to fight off the bite of winter as you pad out onto the balcony.  An unpleasant tingle crawls up your spine as you look off into the navy expanse in front of you; a blanket of mist drowns the dead rattling against their bonds below.  Gentle icy breeze flutters your hair sending strands into the depths.  It feels like a ghost town, in fact this deep into the end of the world it could have been._

_Through the navy and grey headlights break and shut off, from your place you watch tiredly as three figures slink inside and disappear, and once again the grounds of the Sanctuary and beyond are laid to rest._

_It’s getting colder, soon you’d have to move deeper into the depths of your factory home, a small price you’d have to pay for warmth.  Another sharp breeze ruffles the robe and the soft warm baby in your arms whines low, nuzzling against your bare skin._

_“It’s okay sweetheart. Daddy’s home..”_

_It’s warmer as you move into the large apartment, Raven settles easily, snuffling into the creamy mattress of her crib. For that you’re thankful, it hadn’t been easy but watching the small sleeping girl satiated and happy was worth every sleepless night.  She had his eyes, at least for now and the dusting of dark hair was a promise of what was yet to come.  You think about her growing up, having his laugh, smile and charm. But with his charm, comes his impulsivity, his temper but most of all his enemies._

_A ghost of a smile haunts your lips as you shuffle into the cool unmade covers, the rain a pleasant lullaby.  But the niggling thought keeps you awake, she’s a weakness whether you like it or not and with what Negan had pulled with Rick there would be a never-ending hoard of assholes banging on the door soon enough._

“It’s quiet today..”

You brush a hand through your hair, pushing it back from your tired eyes to glance over Ally’s form slumped at the table.  It’s deathly still, only a few workers mill about and even they keep a wary distance.  Winter hadn’t been easy, the losses were great, supplies scarce and then there had been Negan.  Keeping people alive and fed in the throes of the harshest winter yet had taken its toll; more than once faces were scarred and Lucille had her fair share of victims over the last few months. 

People were afraid, even more so when it came to you.  You’d hear whispers as you walk by, mutterings of that day six months earlier.  They’d heard the screams, your painful crying then the piercing shriek of a new born. But with that came the sound of arguing, your crying and screaming at the husband who betrayed you.  The one person you had needed the most had missed the birth of his own daughter and left you in agony to tear the room apart.  Negan had taken one look at your blood-soaked body and flew into a rage smashing desks, mirrors and the dining table into splinters then roared into the night.  You had heard nothing like it, not even your wails were a match for his tortured cry. 

The events of that night started a hurricane, rules were enforced, and patrols doubled –outside the Sanctuary was as safe as it could be, but inside a war raged; the silences, empty beds and nightly fights were breaking your marriage, it had gotten to the point that Dwight had been regularly involved, awoken by yelling and smashing of glasses to break up fights that had gotten physical.  It was your bruised jaw and Negan’s black eye that forced the war to a grinding halt; You gasped, watching him pad into the front room, black and blue that finally made you see, made _him_ see the toxicity of the situation. 

_“We can’t raise our daughter in this Negan.” You’d cry.  “I’m not letting my little girl grow up thinking this is normal. She should grow up wanting the love her parents have, not this..”_

Thing’s changed after that. The last tails of winter had ebbed away, leaving the inhabitants of the reformed factory to pick up their broken pieces.  Day by day things transformed, new communities forged meant supplies were coming in in abundance and with supplies came people. Run crews picked up new survivors and The Sanctuary flourished.  As for the Saviours, Arat grew in strength and began training her first group along with Dwight who had, much to your surprise learnt quickly in his new situation.  After the stress of winter had abated, Negan had come back to himself, his short temper and your angry outbursts were a thing of the past and you were finally settled.  But the thing that made it all worthwhile, the tears, fights and nights of no sleep; the little girl had become the light of everyone’s life; crawling and pulling out the dark strands of Eugene’s mullet. 

Today though, something is different.  Run crews had departed and the outpost team had taken off due to a walker breach earlier in the day, it’s quiet but not _normal._ There is a distinct absence of voices, only the shuffling of a store clerk rearranging her stall and the cranking of a mechanics gears can be heard and the wind, for spring was unusually cold as it blew faintly through a broken window.

“Ally?” You mutter, concerned at the whereabouts of the Sanctuary’s workers and in fact Saviours whose boisterous presence is notably absent.  You don’t notice her folded body twitch as you move to pat her shoulder, instead you excuse yourself and wander over to the younger stall clerk.  In the time since your arrival here you’d tried to spend as little time here as possible and after being seen as Negan’s wife you had consciously spent less time away from prying eyes.  This meant that you had become some kind of mystery to the work force and various lower tier Saviours which in turn made your presence in the marketplace a strange and somewhat tense event for the thinned-out workers that milled about.  The girl sitting absentmindedly behind the desk though, hadn’t noticed you walk up to her stall.  But as you fiddle with the soft corner of a pink baby-grow a silver barb slams viciously in-between the gaps in your fingers with wicked precision. 

“Shit!” You yell, jumping back at the unexpected blow. 

All you can do is stare at the blade as the girl stares wide eyed and frozen at your equally as shocked expression. 

“Oh my god.”  The girl snaps into life, jolting up onto her feet knocking off the box of wool off the edge of the table which sends her into a flurry of apologies and muttered curses.   Watching the girl flit around you twitches the corners of your mouth; are you really this scary?  The weird recluse who they’ve barely seen but heard so much about?  She can’t really be this scared? You frown but bend down to help her anyway.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.. I thought, oh fuck.  Oh no, I’m sorry..” 

A bubble of laughter breaks out between your lips and it won’t stop, it doesn’t take long for people to start staring, more than they had been when they didn’t think you were looking that is.  When you finally recover, the girl is silent and staring like you’d grown another head.

“Those were some lighting reflexes!” You chime, handing her a stray ball of wool but she doesn’t take it.  “Jesus, I’m not some circus attraction oh and shut your mouth. Unless you want some depraved man child to stick something unpleasant in it!” You snort, scooting round her to tidy the stall, unphased by her strange behaviour.

“You-you’re not mad?” Her small voice is barely audible.

“No, I’m not mad.  It seems like you’ve got to protect your own around here and with reflexes like that! Phew, I nearly lost a finger there!” You scoff, smiling warmly hoping to comfort the shaking girl somewhat.   It seems to work; she takes a deep breath and returns to the safety of her table, wobbling as she sits.

“I’m really sorry. I nearly turned N-Negan’s wife into a sushi roll..”

You burst into laughter again, pulling up a stool much to her surprise.

“You’re funny! What’s your name?”

You take your time to regard her as she speaks; dirt smudges her face from eye brow to chin and her dark eyes are shadowed by thick choppy bangs that she’d obviously hacked at herself and by the looks of her long blonde braid she was in desperate need of a haircut. 

“Josie, I’m Josie.”  She seems to perk up, smiling happily

“Nice to meet you Josie, I’m Y/N!”

Josie smiles politely, taking your hand in a small shake. She opens her mouth to say something, but it’s cut off by a barking cough from behind you.  You watch the small smile fall from Josie’s lips as the rough cough turns into raspy breaths.  

Your legs almost buckle at the sight, Ally stumbles over the metal bench trying desperately to hide the blood smeared down her nose and chin.  Without warning you launch yourself forward, just in time as her body falls heavily into your arms. 

“Ally?! Hey, can you hear me?” You try but she can’t respond through the blood.

She’d been fine that morning, complained about a low fever but she’d not been eating – with Mike dead she’d been working overtime for points to keep Harvey fed but you never expected this.

“Someone get Dwight!” You yell and immediately Josie flees leaving you and shocked bystanders alone.

Ally’s coughs rock her body, they’re taking too long she can’t breathe.  You can’t lose your best friend.

Using strength you didn’t know you had you lift her trembling body and head toward Carson. People that had returned from a run scatter like pigeons, magnetising against the wall watching with wide eyes at you and the gurgling body in your arms.

“Carson! Help me!” you scream, kicking violently at the red door so hard it swings open to reveal the once dozing doctor who fades as white as a sheet at the vision before him. 

Blood streams from her nose and spurts grossly out of her lacks mouth as she struggles to breathe, hacking desperately through blocked lungs. 

“I don’t know what to do..” Carson splutters, examining her crimson mouth with a gloved hand. 

“Put this on! Quickly!” He snaps, throwing a mask and gloves your way but it’s no use blood already stains your white top and seeps into the denim. 

“Come on Ally..” You squeal as she fights for air, coughing and gurgling through thick blood that paints her pale skin.

“Carson! What’s happening?!” the words trail off in a scream as she starts to convulse from lack of oxygen. 

In a last-ditch attempt to give her comfort you abandon trying to keep yourself from infection and shove Carson out of the way and hold her body. 

“Don’t be scared.  Fight, I know you can Ally. For Harvey, you fight!”

Hot tears blur your vision, streaming down your chest as the fragile woman kicks and tries valiantly for life.  The pressure behind her eyes sends bloody tears down her cheeks but you don’t look away.

“Don’t be scared..” You soothe, as she growls and kicks for breath, but it doesn’t last and after a long moment she lies limp in your arms.

 

You don’t remember much after that, all you know is now; soaking in a rose-coloured bath in an unfamiliar room with the blood of your best friend under your fingernails.

“Y/N?”  You have half the mind to lurch from the water, cry and scream in fury but you know the door is locked, to prevent infection they said. The same people that didn’t help were dictating your actions, but you know trying to fight won’t help.

“Negan..” You breathe, battling with a sob.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. You gotta stay here, Carson said..”

“I know what he said. He doesn’t know shit. He didn’t help! He just stood back and shook like a pussy while she died!” You yell, choking on tears.

“Doll..”

“No Negan! She died in agony, you didn’t see, you weren’t holding her.. Oh, Negan the sounds she made.  There, there was so much blood.” You trail off, gasping for breath.

The lock rattles but doesn’t turn, there’s another voice an unfamiliar one but it leaves before you can listen. 

“Wash up baby, Carson needs to check you over.  He doesn’t know what this shit is, fucking useless fucker but you’re gonna be fine!”  There’s conviction in his voice but your trained ears hear it, he’s scared. 

“I love you..” You whisper, letting his footsteps fall away.

 

It’s a day later when you return to yourself enough to see people.  You’d fought Carson every step of the way, hurling all sorts of colourful abuse his way but to your surprise there was little resistance.  He knew, deep down he deserved your distain for not trying you suppose; but a small part knows she would never have survived, deep down.

“Okay, there’s no signs of fever like you’d said Ally experienced nor weight loss. So, that’s good.”  His voice is muffled through the green mask, but you nod anyway, chewing on the end of a glass thermometer.

“Can I see my daughter, and my husband.” You hiss, the last forty-eight hours without decent human contact had shortened your temper and the soreness of your chest was making for a painful experience.

“Husband yes, daughter no. I’m not willing to risk that you’re not infected. Negan is older and his immune system stronger.  If-if you were infected he would be less likely to get it than your daughter.  I’m sorry Y/N..”

Despite the burning fury and frustration you were feeling, you knew he was right.  You weren’t willing to risk either of them, so instead you asked to move into Spencer’s old room – it was comfortable and you had everything basic you needed, and if anything happened Carson was next door.   But there was one thing keeping you from drifting to sleep..

“Carson!” You scream and in seconds the door is hurtled open revealing a masked, gloved Doctor – it made quite a picture and you would have sniggered if you hadn’t remembered the real reason you had called him in.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay. Will you tell me what happened, to Harvey..” You have to take a breath and look away, hoping he’d not succumbed to the same thing Ally had.

“The boy is..”  You frown, angered by the twitch in expression flickering over his face, “The boy is with Negan, he’s taken him in you’d be happy to hear he’s well and without fever.  Looks like you’re getting two children for the price of one.  Now, if you have a real emergency?”

“No, no. You go, I feel perfectly fine.” You grin, happier knowing Harvey is safe but you can’t help but wonder why you’re still here, if they’re hiding you away under the guise of infection, hiding you from something even more sinister.

 

 

“Oh..god..” You gasp out, curling blunt fingernails against the hard muscles of Negan’s thighs. His large warm hands hold your waist and he tilts his hips mercilessly, until you’re barely able to hold your own weight.

“Come on baby, tell me what you want..” Negan breathes, sweat trickling down his flushed neck.

“Jesus, fuck. Make me come before I pass out, oh my god..” You grind out, guiding his hand to your clit for extra help.

Almost immediately your vision tilts, and he’s on his knees with a hard hand in-between your shoulder blades.   You squeal happily at the wet luscious warmth of Negan’s tongue lapping hungrily at your folds and you groan deeply into the covers at the shake of his head.  The lack of sex since Raven’s birth had changed your libido the anticipation had become addicting, causing the pleasure coursing through your stomach to heighten exquisitely

“Argh, jesus Negan keep going..” You whine, crushing the white quilt in-between your toes

Your legs buckle as you come, crying into the pillow as much as you’re able but it’s loud and you hope to god it doesn’t wake the baby, considering how fussy she’s been in the week since you’d returned a mind-numbing orgasm wasn’t worth the sleepless night.

It takes a second before you register a change in the room, but Negan notices before you can compose yourself and rushes toward the door, covering his body in a robe in seconds.

“Mrs Negan? I..” The little voice breaks your lusty haze but you can’t respond, you hope it’s your imagination playing cruel tricks or the light screwing with your vision. 

“Sweetheart?” Negan, mutters concern pulling down his dark brows as you wrap your cool body up in the white sheet and shuffle over.

“Harvey, do you feel okay?” You breathe, crouching down to get a better look.

“It’s hot, I feel…hot.”

Your gasp echoes in your own ears and the scene slows, it’s almost as if you’re stuck in a washing machine, watching helplessly while everything moves.

Harvey wilts into Negan’s arm, the small boy’s weight like a matchstick against his frame.

“Negan! Get him to Carson, now!” You yell, scrambling with your robe and pyjamas before hurtling after Negan down the hall.

 

This can’t be happening. Not again.  It was okay, everyone was fine.  It was _over._  

You’re not alone, not this time.  Somehow, in the confusion Josie had helped and stayed by your side but all you wanted was Negan, you needed his comfort and warmth.  Something cool touches your open palm and you flinch, leaning away from the foreign contact.

“Sorry, sorry..I didn’t mean to..” The thin girl mumbles, but must know it’s no use and remains quiet.  Dwight sits silently at your other side, staring into the inky blackness of the hallway. 

“Y/N..” Dwight asks, taking in your position at his side.

“Your clothes are inside out..”

You don’t know what possesses it, the bubbling giggle that bursts out, but you smile anyway – it’s all you can do now after so much loss, even if it might be wrong. No one minds, not even Arat who sits with her head on her knees opposite you.

“Got dressed in a hurry.” You scoff, recalling the reason you’d been divest of clothes in the first place. 

“Oh. Ohh..”

Josie shuffles awkwardly beside you, unsettled. 

“Yep..” you sigh, rubbing at your cold skin. 

“Here, have my jacket.” Dwight offers and happily you accept, letting yourself be enveloped by the warm oversized leather.

“It’s too cold for spring..” Arat huffs, hugging herself for warmth mirroring Josie who shoves slender hands into the too long sleeves of her hoody.

In fact, you’d been cold all evening. 

Muffled noises suddenly escape into the hallway, the familiar bubbling sounds send a horrific chill down your spine, so much so you bow your head in utter devastation.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Dwight gasps, confused by your abrupt sobs.

“He’s dead..” You repeat over and over until the door bursts open, illuminating the hallway in golden light, but it’s quickly blocked by Negan’s dark figure. 

“Negan..” You sob, stumbling toward him but he pushes gently and strides away leaving you to fold into Dwight.  

You don’t cry after that, if you think about it there probably aren’t any left to cry. You’ve lost your best friend and her son in just over a week and now you were all facing a serious problem.  Two people were dead by the same infection, if you could call it that; the doctor was stumped, and you were none the wiser as to how it spread.  Everyone was in danger - you had all been exposed at one time or another and right now there was no advantage.  No one was safe.

“Come on Y/N I’ll take you back. Raven will be missing her Mama..” Dwight soothes, it’s unfamiliar coming from the marred man but not unwelcomed.

“What about Negan..” You sniff, peering up at him with glassy eyes.

“I’ll find him. It’ll be okay. Shower, a hot shower just in case then go to bed.  Change the sheets, you don’t know how passes from person..”  It’s uncomfortable but you nod, flashing a sad looking Josie a grateful smile before disappearing into the cool air of the apartment.

Slowly you come back to life, following Dwight’s orders to the letter.  On your errand you find the source of the cold air, the window had been propped open Lucille resting against the grimy glass – Negan must have opened it.  But why?  You’re always complaining of being cold..

“Negan?!” You yell, suddenly alerted by a loud thud.

Lucille is heavy in your hand, as you run into the front room hyper aware of your sleeping infant in the room opposite, It could be anyone?  Any of the Savours could have a grudge. What if it’s one of Rick’s?  All the possibilities stew in your head for a second, a long drawn out second of better scenarios than the one you were about to find yourself in.

“Y/N..”

“Negan?” You breathe, unable to see the whole picture in the shadows.

It’s cruel, that a heart can keep on beating even after it’s been ripped in two. It’s so cruel, that it’s almost perfect.

In that moment you imagine it – how it would feel being torn apart. You imagine the intense pain of your own flesh being ripped from your bones, maybe you’d pass out before it got too bad? Maybe you wouldn’t? But nothing would be as painful as this. 

They’re barely words, red coats Negan’s teeth and paints his scruff with sticky crimson.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I lied. 
> 
> Tumblr - ArtemisXeros


	11. Head Of The Snake

**T** ime stands still.  Your lungs push desperately at collapsing ribs, unable to protect your vulnerable heart against its crushing weight.  A chorus of protests cry out as Negan falls to your feet.  The wet warmth of his blood soaks into your jeans as he coughs, long fingers curling desperately to your legs. Tight clutches of shock wrap and curl around your limbs, you can only watch him nuzzle into your shins, leaving a cooling trail of crimson in its wake.

Visions of Ally and Harvey tug at your consciousness, you watched them die; agony, soaked in their own blood.  It’s then you fall.

The ground is freezing but you’re already cold, icy and trembling. But this, this is a different kind of cold.  The kind that starts inside, right at the centre of your being, and it spreads like a slow burn to every single cell.  For a moment, you can only kneel and whimper into his hair like a child.

“You’ll be fine baby.” You can feel the hot pin drops of blood spatter over your belly as he speaks, the quiver his only betrayal.

With surprising strength, you push with both hands, holding his upper body just enough to see him properly through the dimming light. 

“Not without you.” You sob, holding his chin up.  Negan tries to soothe you, but his hands do nothing but grab at your shirt, so you pull him in tight for the last time. 

You can’t be without him, you started this journey together so long ago - he saved you from dying in the city.  You saved him from himself many times since founding the Sanctuary and there wasn’t a day that went past since then that you imagined ever being without him.  Through the fights, deaths and mistakes Negan had remained your anchor and you his, through it all.  Being alone had never been an option.  You breathe again, fuelled by the most painful of thoughts – Raven.  She would be alone.

“No Negan..” You’re supposed to be strong. You’ve overcome an almost certain death, a birth and so much more to just give up – but the pain on Negan’s face as he drinks you in is too much to bare.

You move to console him, but a deep hack shakes Negan’s body, sending him sliding down heavily into your lap.  Letting out a yell you hold him tight watching helplessly as the eyes that you’re always lost in roll to white.  His large form tenses and ticks as he tries for air, blood flies up and flutters down like rain.  The guttural cry rips from the back of your throat and you haul forward, flailing for the walkie to call for help but Negan’s dying weight pins you to the floor.

“Wake up Negan. Negan, please.” You cry, pulling at his face and hair with shaky hands. A red mist blurs your vision but as you try to wipe it away it’s replaced with more.  As you rip your hands away from your face it comes away covered in sticky Crimson and you cry out, screaming for Dwight, Josie, anyone who just might be in ear shot.  

His face is paling by the minute, his body only warmed with the burning heat of your own as you cuddle him. 

“Don’t leave me..” crying you haul him as best you can, no longer is he conscious to move and it’s then that it hits; A pure, uncensored pain that cuts bone. “Your daughter needs you, I need you.” You whimper, no energy left to scream again.  “Come on love, I can’t do this without you. She’ll never know her Dad.” 

You had always known how you wanted the future to look, even in this new world; Negan by your side, Raven happy and healthy.  The Sanctuary flourishing and expanded, friends thriving and maybe another baby down the line.  But now, with the love of your life dying in your arms that perfectly imperfect vision is blurred, replaced with an ice cold view of what could be.  It’s not a future you ever want your child to have.

In a desperate attempt to warm him you lay him on the floor before crawling to the pile of discarded blankets that lay undisturbed. Using them to cover him you wrap yourself into the white duvet and cuddle into his side using the rest of your dwindling strength to haul his limp arm around your back.  He would cuddle you, nuzzle his scruff into your neck. You’d complain but nuzzle back and stroke the cursive lines of his tattoo until he fell asleep, but you’re met with silence and agony which turns into cries of despair and you scream; One last time. 

 

And that’s where they find you.

A sound comes through the ringing, but it isn’t clear.  The body at your side is cold, but you can’t let go.  Something is pulling at your waist with so much conviction it must mean something. But you can’t, you must let Raven say goodbye, just once.  So, you fight against the unfamiliar touch.

“Let go of me!” The piercing cry lessens the urgent movement, but it doesn’t leave completely.  Instead of being deterred, more come – this time they’re lighter much more hesitant.  Whoever these hands belong to aren’t much willing and it’s a weak spot you can easily manipulate so you clamp down with blunt nails.   The growl that tears out is animalistic, matching your new stance hunched over Negan like a predator protecting its prize.  But the hands get stronger, or angrier you can’t tell.

“You have to let go, come on _please.”_   Cigarettes. The owner of the pleading voice reeks of fresh Marlboros it sobers you up, sober enough to take a breath and look up from the body.

Marred flesh, you almost recoil from the sight, but it’s finally familiar and impatient hands withdraw from your body slowly but don’t back away from the space between you as if ready for a surprise onslaught.

It’s Dwight, he’s just as broken as you but he catches you easily as the world falls from beneath your feet.  Nothing feels real, even as Dwight and Josie implore that it’s going to be okay, that he’s still breathing.  You can hear them, more voices; loud, worried, distraught…angry?  But you can’t hear his, and as you wake it starts over again. 

They try to stop you getting up, a chorus of protests ring out but you’re strong, stronger than any of them expect and then you’re here, kneeling by his bedside. Large circles stain his face, your hands shake violently as you reach out to touch him – slowly, you’re afraid he’ll suddenly jolt awake, but in reality you’re terrified that he won’t.  You almost stop breathing when you make the barest contact with his face. But nothing. Nothing.

He’s so cold.

 

You were supposed to live. To thrive here. You were supposed to be okay because it’s home, you have a family and each other.  You have a child.

You’re not entirely sure what happened in the last, how long has it been? Ten minutes? An hour? Either way, he’s still not awake.  You can’t be sure he’s alive.

Then there’s a hand, firm but kind on your aching shoulder and the understanding but unmistakably tense tone of Carson’s voice pierce through.  Carson who didn’t expect this, who watched helplessly as two innocents died. As his leader and friend fought for breath.  He didn’t anticipate any of it, and still isn’t any closer to the truth.

“Come on now, let’s get you some water.  Leave him to rest, Raven wants you my dear.” It’s enough to bring you around, temporarily back to the present.  Willing yourself not to look, you pass the bed and stride angrily out the room.  

The newly furnished room is bathed in a new day, its light illuminates the downy fluff of dark hair and sandy eyes.  The sight of Raven brings a new wave of agony and hot tears.  Her whines go unattended, your daughter watches on confused as her mother sinks down, crying silently into both hands, unable to look at the life her Father will never get to see.

You can’t tell which cries alert Josie who flits into the room, by the halted tread of her sneakers you can tell she’s stationary, figuring out how to deal with a crying baby and inconsolable Mother.

“Okay.” A deep breath. “It’s okay baby, we’re going to see your Mama now.” You almost see it, the picture vivid in your brain. Raven is probably frowning, waving her chubby legs at the young stranger who no doubt hauls her unpractised from under the arms. “Oh, oh no. Don’t cry, please. Oh gosh.”

“No.” You groan, wiping tears and snot across a pyjama sleeve.  She tries, but without Negan you can’t, it’s your daughter but now all she is, is a living, screaming reminder of him.

With more confidence than you give her credit for Josie visibly steels herself, blonde hair swaying when striding forward to plonk the wriggling, snot covered lump of a baby into your arms.

Slow, so very slowly, the muscles in aching arms relax and instantly wrap around Raven who settles instantly. Her small, warm body flops uncaring and blissfully unaware into your chest, nuzzling expectantly at the low neckline of your inside out top.

“Can, can you pass me that blanket please. The blue one, it’s hers.” Your cracking voice startles Josie who had wandered unseen to the window.

“I always wanted to have a baby, once.”  It’s wistful, in fact if you weren’t really listening you wouldn’t have heard. Her plump pink lips turn up slightly, blue eyes lingering on Raven who feeds softly.

“It might happen, you might meet a handsome guy!” You giggle, barely able to believe it was you who produced that sound, but it seems to lighten the mood and you sit together in silence.

“So, how did you end up here in The Sanctuary?” You urge to know more about the shy woman, who sighs turning slightly but stops speaking abruptly, blue eyes glued to your Daughter who turns toward Josie.

If the cold breeze against your chest is any indication you’ve probably given the poor girl an eyeful, and with the embarrassed look on her face you’re sure she didn’t miss it either.  A frown pulls at your brows when Josie shifts awkwardly.

“What’s wrong?” You pry, holding her shy eyes while wiping up and closing your shirt.

She looks, uncomfortable so you decide not to push but instead squeeze her shoulder and in a silent plea offer the baby over.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I just want to, I want to check if he’s still, alive.” You breathe, looking anywhere but her. Much to your surprise she takes Raven without protest and smiles gratefully.

“You go, we’ll be fine.” She coos, and for a second you feel completely at peace watching with unshed tears as Raven smiles happily at the slender fingers trailing down her cheek.

“Thank you, Josie.”

 

You’re standing in the doorway when they see you.  Looking past each of them you spot Carson who takes his pulse, the breathy counting the only sound.  Dwight sits on the leather poufy nursing a whisky, also studying the Doctor intently who goes to speak just as you break the silence.

“He isn’t like the others…”

Carson twists comically on a heel, pointing down the end of his stethoscope.

“You’re supposed to be resting!”

“Raven’s fine, Josie’s with her. Tell me what you know.” 

No one argues, a brief tut from Carson is all you get before returning to Negan. You still can’t bare to look too long.

“You’re right. He isn’t like the others..” He muses “It’s almost worse..” You flinch at the bluntness of the information, but he knows you’re strong and wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Good news is there is no sign of any respiratory problems like the other two.” Painful memories hit like broken glass as you remember the events of the last few weeks – Ally and Harvey both suffered, died within days of each other.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”  As if looking for comfort you move into the room and join Dwight who holds your hand immediately.

“Yes. But I’m no closer to finding out the cause or cure.  Good thing is neither of you or Raven, in fact..” Carson trails off in thought, which makes you uneasy.

“Neither yourself, nor the child have contracted the mystery illness.  You were the most likely to, considering how close uh, contact you were in before the event.”  He’s flushed scarlet, along with Dwight and you who daren’t look from the floor. 

“Yes, well. I had thought, but it’s not likely considering..”  He fades again, but you’re growing tired

“Considering?”

Carson trips over himself, storing equipment before uttering words that change everything;

“I don’t wish to point fingers, but hypothetically, imagine if this strain wasn’t an illness. More, more of a target.” 

The air leaves the room. No one breathes. No one moves.

“Oh, god.” Covering your crying eyes with a shaky hand you wonder how you could have missed this, how the fact that someone wanted Negan dead had never been a thought.  But why would it? Why would Ally or Harvey dying of the same thing ever warrant that.  But it makes sense, in the worst way.

“It can’t be..” You breathe but aren’t heard over a loud shout from outside the doors.

Dwight, who hadn’t uttered a word since shot up and flew outside before you could blink.

Immediately you follow him out into the hall, watching Spencer confront Gary on the other side.

“Inner circle only prick.”  The dark burly man growls, one light push has the Alexandrian drop out nursing a bruised ass.

“I’m a Saviour now. Remember that.” Spencer snipes. Obviously unaware of your presence in the shadows, he continues sizing up to Gary who snorts at his pathetic attempts at a fight.

“Dwight, you know Y/N and I have an understanding!” Spencer pleads his case to Dwight who lately had become fast friends with him. You remember seeing them both early one morning, training and laughing over smokes, a stark contrast to the unhinged man that minute by minute goes down in your expectations.  But Dwight doesn’t heed the pleas.

“She’s obviously upset about Negan, let me see her.” But Gary, as usual is having none of it, raises a heavily tattooed arm and shoves him to the floor again.

“Get fucked. The girl is fine, doesn’t need you **rat.** Isn’t that right?”

Dwight slides to the side, letting Gary wrap a large arm around your waist that pulls you out of the shadows and into view.  It seems to shock Spencer into silence, fighting with the uneasiness in your gut and the want to understand why the man had kicked up such a fuss, you decide to turn back to Dwight and look for permission of sorts.  With a slight nod, you beckon him forward.

“It’s fine Gary. I need an extra pair of hands with Raven’s crib, let him through.”  You don’t know why you lied or laughed watching Spencer rush past Gary, giving him a wide birth.

 

Once Dwight closes the parlour doors you round on him;

“What makes you think you can show up, disturb my Saviours and kick up a stink like that Spencer Monroe!” You yell, reaching deep inside the steaming cesspit of anger you’re fighting to keep down. A look of genuine shock smears his sandy features, which pass over Dwight who you know stares hotly at the back of your head for mouthing off at his friend, but it doesn’t stop you.

“Relax, I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He holds his ground, both hands up in surrender “You were nice to me, when I moved here; you weren’t like everyone else. I wanted to return the favour, I know it’s hard.”  It’s a shock, his soft voice gets to you, softening the hard exterior.

“I lost my Mom, I want you to know I understand you’re grieving.”

That’s when it returns, the steely defence. Even Dwight steps to join your side.

“Spencer. Negan’s alive. I don’t know what rumours are going around on that damn floor, but I will crush them, you got it?!” You yell, gathering the attention of Carson who pops his head round the door.

“Ah!” The joyful sound startles all three of you, “Dwight! Y/N, you’re going to want to come in now. Spencer, you too, I may need some help.  If you’re still looking to learn?”  Without waiting for an answer, he disappears and you run, rushing behind the Doctor who yells at you to wait but you don’t listen and shove hotly at the double door and trip uncoordinatedly into your bedroom.  

“Jesus sweetheart..” His voice is croaky and alien but it’s music to your ears that brings tears to your eyes and you’re instantly being yelled at by Carson who tries to stick an IV.

“I knew you were clumsy, but tripping over fucking air? Really?”

“Shut up you!” You don’t bother to wipe the tears away. Not knowing what prompts it you grab at Carson, pulling the babbling Doctor into your arms.  He squeaks, glowing bright red when you pull away, it’s comical how the normally demure man looks as if he’s about to burst.

“What did you do!” You grin, staring blankly from Negan and back waiting for an explanation.

Carson twitches, the floor suddenly becoming interesting.

“I don’t know, I pushed fluids and he returned some colour and begun to wake, slightly.” 

You watch and wonder as he successfully places the IV and passes a crisp glass of water to Negan who hadn’t said anything, which was strange considering his expressive comment on your entrance into the room. 

He looks better, colour slightly returned his dark hair flopping forward into his forehead, covering the lines that are a product of years of scowling. It makes you smile, watching him groan appreciatively over the glass.

“Carson, that’s some good shi—” Hacking coughs interrupt his praise, spilling water over the grey sheets.  Like a cat among the pigeons each of you rush in to help as the coughs morph into wheezes.

“What’s wrong with him!” You splutter, bracing your arms under his upper back to assist Carson who shoves a pillow to support his back. It seems to work, and the coughs lessen to hard breaths and it’s silent once again. 

“Oh god..” You breathe sitting unsteadily by Negan’s head stroking soothing waves over the side of his sleeping face.  “I can’t lose him Carson, I just got him back – don’t let me lose him.” You feel the sharp sting of tears but they never fall.

“I wouldn’t dream on it. Spencer, put the cool washcloth in the bucket on his head it’ll decrease the fever.”  He turns to you, smiling which quashes some of the fear “The fever is our main concern now, as well as any side effects long term, but now his temperature is the enemy. Spencer? The cloth.”  Carson snaps a dazed Spencer into action, he’s slow and shaky but does as told and gives you a wide berth to deposit the cold cloth.  Negan stirs but doesn’t wake. 

“The bag will take some hours to empty. Leave him to sleep, I don’t want to hear that he’s awake. He needs rest, so do you. You have been up hours, go rest in the chair we will take care of the place.” Carson never fails to surprise you, once the mouse like man who wouldn’t say boo to a goose finally takes charge, but you have to defy him.

“I will rest Carson, but this place can’t run without him and the next best thing, is me. Dwight can come with me to oversee the workers, The Saviours need to go to pick-ups, I’ll talk to them too.” You might be Negan’s wife and taken a significant step back since being a Mother but never have you quit being a Saviour.  You were top of the pack before Negan and you were more than excited to reprise your role, you wish it had been under better circumstances, but you’re determined to change that when it all blows over. 

The ever-loyal Dwight takes your orders to rally the troupes with no argument and is quickly joined by Gary who is less than impressed with his assignment to guard Negan from inside the walls.

“Damn kiddo, you know how to make a guy feel inadequate.” He grumbles but you know him, he can’t stop the smile that breaks through the scowl.  He sits, pulling Spencer away from the leather poufy with a growl;

“Get fucked Spencer, go make yourself useful back with the other traitor.”

You narrow your eyes at the tick in Spencer’s jaw, he’s fighting to bite back, blow up and cause a fight but you also know he’d never win.  He seems to take the defeat and skulks out.

“Alright. Thank you Gary, if he wakes up call Carson, I’m sure he has some interesting colonoscopy bed time stories to threaten him with!” You snigger, rubbing playfully at the close buzzed cut.

“Dwight, gather the rest of Saviours and take them to the table room. I’ll be a minute, I think Josie might have kidnapped my child!”

Blankets lay strewn around your front room, the only evidence of the event of the last day. On your way toward Raven’s room you see that some kind soul that cleaned the blood out of the carpet.  Your dirty pyjamas quickly join the discarded blankets and the feel of fresh clothes is so blissful you moan out loud. 

Usually, any expression of your voice would alert Raven especially this early in the day, but nothing comes.  Through the ajar door you spot Josie’s red sneakers like a beacon, her position on the floor strikes cold fear in your chest and you run tripping over untied boots. 

“Josie?!” You’re panicking but break into relieved laughter at the sight in front of you;

Josie lays slumped against the wall, right where you left her.  Raven lays in the crook of her arm, sound asleep.  It warms your heart, the woman that resisted holding her lays sleeping protecting your child who doesn’t stir when you wake Josie.

“Hey, are you okay?”  You whisper, stroking the exposed side of Raven’s cheek.

“Oh! Yes, sorry. Here, sorry.” Josie flails and you wince anticipating Raven’s sharp cries.

“Sh, sh! It’s okay Josie, are you okay to stay with her?  I have to sort some things..”

The slim blonde readjusts Raven and smiles happily. You’re thankful to her and smile widely. 

“There’s premade bottles in the fridge, feel free to eat something! There’s some good stuff here, just don’t tell Negan!” You laugh.  Josie frowns, gazing into your eyes in disbelief as if your small gesture of kindness is unwarranted, but you realise that she’s confused because he’s supposed to be dead.  The odds were stacked against him and it’s a miracle that Negan made it through.

“He’s alive!” She squeaks, grabbing your hand and holds it tight.

“Thank god.  Thank you, Y/N we’ll be fine won’t be baby.” She coos, squeezing your hand once more before you depart.

 

It’s strange, every corridor on your way to the table room is deserted. There’s not the usual hustle and bustle of the mid-day lunch rush, no muffled arguments behind heavy doors.  Even the cleaning workers are thinly spread but not one spares you a glance.  It’s as if the dark mood seeps into every soul of the Sanctuary, even the usually loud meeting room is heavy with silence and sad faces; Dwight though, is the only one with a barest hint of a smile.  It makes you huff out a laugh, watching the sulky man grin when catching your eye. 

Four seats are filled, four of the most trusted Saviours turn to you wearing the same dire expression. You ring both leather clad hands together and fight a victorious smile.

“He’s okay.”  There’s a chorus of relieved breaths, and each face changes to bright smiles. Even Regina, the most straight laced vicious member of the inner circle wraps her muscled arms around your shoulders.

“Damn kiddo! You scared the crap outta me!” Her rich southern accent is warm and welcoming, and you return the hug in kind.

As if noting the change in your body, each person tenses in their chairs.  No one takes their eyes off you.

“Someone did this. Someone in this place murdered two of our own. A _child._ Someone tried to murder my husband and they will pay.” Your sharp growl is interrupted by a voice you recognise, it mutters slurred apologies and whines painfully a when it finds the heavy seat.

“Eugene.” You hiss slamming both fists down on the table in frustration

“You’re late! And drunk?!”  He doesn’t seem to be bothered by your yell and it makes you angrier.

“Eugene! You want to mess with me? Now? I hope not.”

“My sincere apologies.  I seem, seem to have over indulged without my knowledge.”  He grumbles, pleading with milky blue eyes.  What you see there worries you, but it’s forced down.

“I swear to god.” You sigh but shake it off and look to the rest of the Saviours.

“Regina. Take your crew, it’s Kingdom pick up day.  Gavin, go to the Safe Zone and play nice we can’t have them kicking up a stink now not while we’re so vulnerable! Rick might be healing but he’s still smart. Keep it kosher.  Paula, the outpost needs cleaning and a reinventory.  Make it feel like a home instead of the prison it smelt like the last time I was there!” You laugh happily, accepting their warm smiles.

Each person does as asked, without argument and more smiles than you think you deserve. They depart until you’re left with Dwight and the Alexandrian traitor who peers through pale hands.  His forehead sweating and almost transparent.  

“Eugene?”  You pry, leaning quietly across the puckered wood to prompt him but your caring hands are met with pained groans.

“Are you really that hungover man?” Dwight barks, kneeling by his feet. 

“I need rest. If someone would assist me to my room – I would be grateful. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”  There isn’t time to pander to Eugene now, with an order out the door a newer Saviour skitters in and out with Eugene who reeks of alcohol and burnt metal as he passes.

“Was that weird, or is it just me?” You stew, rubbing both hands over your face. 

“Eugene? I can never tell.  You’re doing perfectly, they all respect and like you.  Now, onto the workers – Negan usually talks about rules, tries to up moral and if he’s feeling nice gives them free stuff, without points.”

It’s been a year since you had wandered the floor alone, you barely leave the safety of your room and it’s safe to say you’re out of practice.

“What do I say? Hey so, someone tried to kill Negan – he’s vulnerable so if you have a grudge, here’s your shot?!” You begin to panic, pacing back and forth until Dwight’s hands stop your frantic movements.

“Tell them Negan is okay, not to worry and carry on as normal. You guys have a lot of fruit in the garden, get a few fresh Saviours to gather it up and dish it out?” 

Nervous, but determined you press on through the Sanctuary wrapped up in leather and denim. Dwight remains by your side, even as you step out watching each worker, man, woman and child stare up.  The whirr of machines grinds to a halt, no one speaks, and it makes the sweat gathering on your palms double exponentially.  They begin to fall to their knees;

“Those who want to stay standing, please do.  I know, I know you’re expecting Negan; I also know what you’ve all heard. Now there’s no need to worry, Negan is fine, and the following days will run as normal.”  People mutter, some smile but others look with narrowed eyes at the elusive wife of Negan who dares bark orders.  But no one argues, not a soul kicks up a fuss.  Dwight hurries to your side, leaning out to fill the silence that had befallen the large space.

“The Saviours will be walking the floor, so there better be no mistakes.  Don’t mistake our kindness for permission.  There will be punishments for any slip.” Dwight hisses, luckily missing your headache inducing eye roll at his behaviour.  You have never been a fan of their way of working, threats and intimidation never work over understanding and respect.  But you know not to fight Negan or Dwight on the topic.  It never worked out well.

“Now, there are free fresh fruit for everyone with dinner. No points needed.”  It throws you off, the clapping and joyful laughter from the crowd but you smile anyway and throw in something extra.

“If you’re a family with children, that will extend to extra Vegetables as well.  As you were.”

You smile and push from the barrier, leaving a shocked Dwight to gawp like a fish before jogging to join you as you leave.  Before he can speak you throw an order to the Kingdom’s run crew.

“Hey. Get extra veg from King Z, any means necessary.”  It’s hypocritical and risky but a leader that doesn’t follow through on a promise is not worth following.  You know that the workers aren’t well fed, and after what happened to Ally and Harvey you must honour them somehow – feeding the poorest families was a good place to start. 

“Alright, Dwight. Keep an eye on the floor, and those new Saviours! They’re a little too trigger happy down there.” 

 

Walking down the hall toward home, you hear a voice – a melodic humming that takes you off course, darting toward one of the quieter rec rooms on the Saviours floor.  You recognise it; the circular table surrounded by bar stools was usually full.  Before the ambush Simon had been a frequent face here.  You sigh sadly, it had been nearly eight months since his death and still you miss the loud laughter and inappropriate jokes that had you rolling once upon a time.  Letting go of a breath, you refocus on the voice and follow it toward the television – a dusty set that only works if given a kick. It’s strange how any one would be down here, and it brought the defences up, your hand steadfast on the cold blade at your hip.

“Now, this pretty lady is Princess Aurora!”  Stepping into the corner of the room you spot the familiar blonde ponytail, now plaited and neat at the back of Josie’s head. The choking atmosphere reduces instantly, and you slink further in and stay still, happy to watch. 

“She’s running to the Prince Charming..” Something changes in her tone, prompting her to turn Raven from the TV.  Her honeyed gaze never leaves Josie who mirrors the princess on screen. 

“Now that being said little one, you don’t always have to run to a prince.” She smiles, jiggling her sweetly. “You could, if you ever want to fall in love with another Princess! Just like your aunty Josie.” 

You’re unsure why the blood heats in your cheeks. Suddenly feeling that you’d interrupted a private moment you go to leave but are stopped by the frantic babbling of your daughter who as you turn connects with your eyes and the game is up.

“Oh! Hey..” Josie’s flustered and awkward falling over children’s toys and empty beer bottles.

“Hi, was she good? Behave yourself little one?” You coo, letting her pound excitedly against your forearm with chubby fists.

“Yeah! We had fun huh?” As soon as Raven was in your arms you hold her tight even when she tries to wriggle free, whining into your neck.  Josie doesn’t look at you, her powder blue eyes do their best to avoid your own.

“Hey, about what you heard.” She begins;

“Oh, don’t sweat it. You’re Josie! A kick ass Babysitter with wicked knife skills! That reminds me!”

Readjusting Raven in your arms you wave Josie forward and out into the corridor.  She follows you silently up the stairs to the deserted corridor which is home to the newer Saviour recruits.  You recall a night a month earlier, Negan ranting about a spare room which a ‘good for nothing ungrateful fucker’ had vacated.  You hadn’t listened to the rest, assuming he’d been killed for some transgression putting it to the back of your mind – until now.  Josie’s knife skills were exceptional, with a little training she would no doubt in your mind become an asset to the crew.

She looks a little confused, looking from your gleeful expression to the empty cell like room.  Then it falls together, you hadn’t even spoken!

“Sorry. Welcome to your new room! Eh, we’ll paint it or um redecorate?” You laugh, stepping into the cool room making sure Raven was warm, wrapped in your jacket. “We have some spare beds and shiny new mattresses I can pull in and we’ve definitely got a damn heater I can take from the inventory to warm this ice box up!”  

She looks as if she’s about to cry and all at once pulls you into a surprisingly strong hug.

“Thank you! Thank you! It’s been years since I’ve had my own space, my sister always used to trash our room growing up. It’ll be nice to have my own space. As for being a Saviour, I won’t let you down!”

“Alright! Head down to the commissionary, grab whatever you need and don’t worry about points. Tell Mark that’s on me, got it?  Then knock on the door down the way, you can’t miss it it’s got a giant middle finger sign on the door!” Josie looks apprehensive, you can’t blame her it’s intimidating, and she doesn’t necessarily fit in with the men and few hard women that reside here, but you know she’s strong, like you, she’ll adjust. 

“That’s Arat’s door, she’s the babysitter down here. You’ve met her before, albeit in the dark but if you can ignore the bad dye job, she’s a great gal.  Honestly, she’s an angel. She’ll help you lift the bed from the inventory – she knows where that is.”  You watch her take in the information and she returns your smile brightly, inflating with a deep breath before striding down the corridor.

“Right little girl, lets go see Daddy huh?” 

 

 Raven is sound asleep by the time you reach the main hall. The rooms of Dwight, Regina, Garry and Arat are closed off and empty making the long walk toward home an earie one.  You brush your fingers against the painted grey wood of Simon’s door, smiling at the echoes of his voice in your memory.   The normal warmth of the Parlour is notably absent.  As you walk through the large double doors it’s colder somehow.  With Raven sleeping in your left arm, you wobble but manage to throw the last remaining pieces of wood into the fire place and let them burn.  They crack and burn easily, warming the large room in minutes.  Raven settles in her crib easily, it jiggles slightly, and you make a mental reminder to bug Negan to fix the damn thing! 

“Alright girl, don’t cause any trouble.” You giggle, kissing the side of her head before heading into the bedroom.

You barely get through the door before tripping, both wrists brace the fall sending shockwaves of pain up into your elbows.  You cry out but are too concerned by the body slumped against the black poufy, a large lump protruding from Gary’s head.  You’re surprisingly calm, checking his pulse which thumps lethargically at your thumb. 

“Thank god.”

“Don’t. Move.”

A deep voice pins you to the spot, it’s harsh scratch cuts deeper than any knife and you struggle to keep your composure.

“Don’t move Y/N.”  His voice isn’t as shaky as expected, in fact the way he struts around exudes confidence, something you haven’t seen since he arrived here.

Struggling to your feet you do your best to ignore the pain that shoots through your wrists but manage to stand without antagonising him.  He lets you slide into the chair but nothing more.

“You move, I gut you where you stand – understand me?” Spencer hisses, waving a glistening needle like a trophy. 

It all falls into place. He was one of them – Alexandrian and no doubt bought here to cut the head off the snake himself.  It makes you angry, but anger makes you stupid, and stupid gets you killed so instead you try and level your breathing make a plan, but with your Daughter asleep and vulnerable and Negan so close to death you’d do best not to push him.

“Put the needle down, Spencer please, stop.” You beg, suddenly overcome with emotion.

He doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on Negan’s unconscious body. 

“Stop Spencer please!” You scream, hoping your cries would alert somebody but they just make Raven cry.  Her shrill wails for her distressed Mother are muffled by the door but you daren’t push, you can’t lose Negan now.

“Shut up. Don’t you get it? He needs to die! He never respected me, he adored Eugene over me! I could help run this place! Instead I’m nothing, I’m scum.” He hisses, lurching forward.

“You killed them. You killed Ally, and Harvey. Oh my god, you killed a child!” The scream that rips out is unhuman, but you know better than to make any moves until Negan is safe, but the emotion is over whelming. Visions of Ally and Harvey rip through your brain, making it hard to keep calm but looking at Negan’s sleeping face you know what you have to do.

“I killed them to get to him! I was, I was going to kill you! But what’s the fun in killing you when I could get the big gun!  I tried to kill him, but that fucker takes more juice, and that kid put up one hell of a fight!” He laughs, kicking the small stool by the bed so hard it flies and smashes into the bedroom door.  Raven screams louder, you want so much to get to her but he’s closer to Negan with every step.

“Spencer stop!” You yell, raising from the seat but he rounds on you swinging a large fist into the side of your face.  You grunt, slamming into the carpet – as you roll something catches your eye under the bed, but he grabs you before you can get to it. He forces you into the chair by the bed, holding your jaw, forcing you to watch as he tries but fails to stick the needle.

“Please, he’s my husband. That little girl’s father!  She’s screaming! Spencer don’t do this. If you do this I lose him forever.” You whimper, looking him right in the eyes begging, pleading for him to stop but it does nothing. 

“Say. Goodbye. You and that child will be fine. I’ll run this place like you wouldn’t believe. My mother believed and so will you Y/N.”

It’s then you know it’s a lost cause.  “Let me say goodbye, just please let me say goodbye.” 

“I like you Y/N, so you can say goodbye. No funny business you understand me?” 

Frightened but determined, you nod and disregard him and get into the bed.  At least Spencer has the grace to turn away when you kiss him, you hope to god it stirs Negan enough to wake.

“Don’t move until it’s over. I love you..” Deciding to put on the theatrics, you cry as loud as able and cuddle him.

“Alright. You said your goodbyes. Go tend to your daughter. Now.”

Instead of obeying, you trip and go tumbling to the carpet again.  Blaming it on the punch to the face, which blooms painfully, you lay still for a few seconds, wrapping your hand around the smooth wood.

“Spencer.” He glances down, goes to grab but gets a fist full of Lucille, her barbs rip into his delicate palm knocking the needle to the ground and out of sight.  With him disarmed you have the upper hand and rise to your feet taking advantage of his weakness and swing again, harder, slamming Negan’s first love into his shoulder knocking him to the ground.

“Get fucked! You come from that cesspit! You kill my friends! You come for my family and expect to live?!” You scream so loud he covers his ears, coating his face in red. He’s injured but runs forward, rugby tackling you to the floor, knocking Lucille back under the bed.  In the blink of an eye you’re under him, held down by the weight of both his knees that crush your chest.  Your arms though are free enough to slam against his head over and over until they come away bloody.

“You won’t live to see that kid grow up! How does that feel Y/N? Knowing you could have prevented it!”  His evil words cut deep but it’s nothing but fuel for your raging limbs that beat and beat until he falls to the side.  He’s rendered useless, breathing through blood that cakes his teeth and face.

“I wonder what your Mother would say Spencer huh?!  How would she feel knowing she raised such a fucking pussy!”  

Grasping Lucille you don’t hold back; Ally’s face, Harvey’s and Negan’s flashes through fuelling every single swing.  His arms are the first to go; silver barbs are dressed in red and white. Chunks of bone come away until you feel the barbed wire scrape the carpet.  Spencer’s howls are deafening and morph into chokes when you slam his left leg matching his guttural cries with one of your own.

“No one comes for my family and lives. No one. Good night Spencer Monroe, say hi to your Mom for me.”  You whisper, grinning broadly before sliding to the floor.

It’s silent now, Raven is no longer crying and even the garbled breaths of a dying man are barely whispers.  It should be any minute now. 

 

 _“That’s my girl.”_    


	12. Come Away to the Slaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle to adjust to your new role as Negan recovers, Josie has a problem and someone challenges your authority. 
> 
> (look out for a special guest appearance)

It’s barely past dawn when you hear it.  With Negan still recovering, another early patrol forces you up and out before he wakes, but your usually peaceful morning is ripped wide open by a shrill scream.  With one leg tangled in denim you run into the bedroom, panic striking white hot into the centre of your chest at the violent images that run rampant. 

“Negan! What’s wrong with—”

Your ungainly entrance interrupts the piercing giggles of Raven whose chubby limbs wriggle against Negan’s writhing hands that engulf her body.  The relief is palpable; in the weeks since Spencer’s betrayal your instincts have been on red alert, so much so it morphs the excited cries of your daughter into screams of pain and it _hurts._ You should be smiling, happy to see your husband recovering well and child safe and healthy but instead it reminds you of how you failed to protect them in the first place.

“Mama!” Negan laughs, launching forward to cover Raven’s eyes with a giant hand.  It makes her laugh and she tries in vain to yank his hand away. “The only person that gets to see that hot body is me babygirl!” He jokes, swooping her up into his arms.  Negan moves to settle her into the bed once more, but his eyes never leave you, they rove and explore every part of your body clinging onto the matching black set you grasped in a hurry.  Heat blooms at your cheeks, insecurity forcing you to turn away from him and swiftly dress.

Negan’s grumble is an elephant in the room, begging to be hunted and sold for parts but you are content to ignore it for now. Dealing with the issue would no doubt sour your day, so you go about lacing your heavy boots and pad toward the bed. 

Her hair is starting to grow, tuffs of thin hair curl gently at the base of her skull.  They match her eyelashes in colour, beautiful and black.  It makes you smile and despite the fear and self-doubt you manage to grin at her grip on your fingers.  Her muddled grunts are begging for you to stay, they tug at your heart strings plucking at your control that almost brings you to tears but there isn’t time for that.  With Carson’s orders for house arrest still in affect the Sanctuary needs you more than ever, but you don’t leave without wrapping her up into your arms letting her small hands delve into your hair for comfort.  Though it doesn’t last long before she’s fussing, pulling demandingly at the cool zipper of your jacket.  

“There’s a bottle in the kitchen..”

The screams you’re so afraid of hearing cut sharply through the silence when you return her to the bed.  She yanks at your hair.  You’re beginning to feel the claws of impatience scratch unfriendly at your insides, and it forces your hand that pulls hers from your hair which in turn makes her cry more.  This time, Negan, who had been a silent spectator in your interaction finally intervenes and it isn’t long before Raven settles to the sound of his gentle voice.  It shouldn’t make you mad. Before all this your heart would swell and drop and no doubt would it influence your hormones, but this time watching her happy with him does nothing but push you further away.  You can’t explain it to him or yourself, there’s barely a justification for your feelings and you know Negan would take it the wrong way if you let it out, so, you leave with a monotone goodbye to Raven who peeks cheekily from the bare crook in Negan’s elbow.

You find yourself grateful for the silence of the front room, it’s bathed in milky yellow that illuminates the rugs gold thread that runs through the centre of the room. After filling a water bottle for yourself and packing a light lunch you grab the thick black gun holster and find a gun missing. You feel a small flash of anxiety at the thought of Raven finding the weapon, playing innocently until…

The sharp click of your bedroom door finishes the dreadful thought and you look up at Negan who’s now dressed in a thin white shirt and grey sweats.   A strange thing you thought, remembering a time where he’d cackled manically for minutes after seeing Simon emerge from a rec room in a pair.  The light-hearted memory though, isn’t enough to crack your hard expression.

“Hey..” Eyes narrowing at Negan’s sultry tone, you reply, “I have to go..”

It obviously is not what he wants to hear and in a second, Negan blocks your escape with a heavy hand to the door. You’re waiting for a fight, for him to complain about your stinking attitude but what you don’t bank on is his touch at your waist, gentle but insistent and you unwillingly stagger forward into his arms.  You curse silently, berating your limbs that instantly relax.

Negan lets only a second pass before lifting you up, unconcerned by your hisses;

“Negan. Let me down, I have to go!”

His warm body and strong arms are resolute and don’t let up until he comes to a halt at your bedroom door.  You hold still, stoic and cold but Negan doesn’t seem to care, in fact he’s more than affectionate and it throws you off. 

“I know, you gotta go.” He grumbles but is slow in your decent. Negan guides you, slides your body down flush with his own until you feel it.  He’s hard and the sweat pants allow for more than an eyeful.  Before you can protest he speaks, leaning hotly only millimetres from your lips.  Instead of going for them he reaches out and brushes a wisp of hair back from your brow, slipping it back behind your ear.  You struggle to repress a shiver when he slides the back of his hand down the exposed expanse of your neck to tip your chin up to his. 

Negan doesn’t look at you, his honeyed eyes are fixated on your lips that part to release a sigh.

“Doesn’t Daddy get a goodbye?”  His rich warm voice drips like honey, narrowing your eyes again you give him a tight-lipped smile, trying to hold in the sound that threatens to break free. 

You know what he’s doing, using the name you’d moaned in the heat of the moment.  You would think it would ignite a fire, but it barely scratches the surface of your armour.  He must realise his words haven’t hit their mark because he pulls his eyes from your mouth and uses them to pin you into the counter. 

His next move is an unexpected one. He grabs your face, hard fingers digging into the edge of your jaw.  Negan doesn’t speak before pressing a full kiss against your mouth, swallowing your shocked gasp. The salt and pepper spikes burn and drag across your sensitive skin, his tongue demanding attention.  When he gets a bare response his hand tightens, but this time he pushes back with deep dark eyes. The snarl that rips out booms around the room;

“Ditch the fucking attitude. It doesn’t look good on you.”  Negan growls, shoving your jaw away before disappearing into the bedroom.

 

You try to ignore the nausea swelling in your gut as you step into the hallway, several early rising Saviours that reside on your floor mill tiredly toward the showers or breakfast hall.  Regina, Dwight, Eugene and Arat have rooms here and you start to worry what they heard until a burst of static makes you jump.

“Be careful, you hear me?” you leave Negan hanging and turn down the walkie, distracted by the commotion at the end of the hallway.

It happens fast, Josie staggers backward, her red sneakers track something sticky into the hall.  Arat is quick to follow, shoving her back into the stone;

“Stupid! Reckless! Priss!” Arat’s voice is met by tired heads and Josie’s meek apologies that bounce back like shit to a fan that only riles Arat further. 

You stride down the corridor, nameless Saviours pour out to witness the wrath of Arat who’s reputation precedes her, but you make it just in time, and reach out with a quick hand.  Her caramel eyes tie tight to your hand that grips lean muscle, but it’s ripped away as she rounds on Josie who cowers at the wall, her milky eyes misted with unshed tears. 

“What?!” She’s shaking, subtle ripples of finely trained fingers itch to strangle. Arat’s seething and tilted in your vision as you wait.

“She fucked my redirect! Incompetent bimbo tripped on those priss shoes and snagged the wire!” The Saviours whisper and gasp behind you, an audience that Arat is more than willing to perform for, raising her voice louder with each barb that never misses their mark.  You let her swing round stalking around Josie who’d peeled herself from the wall in an effort to apologise.

“Fucking prissy princess! This is the end of the damn world! Fashion isn’t a fucking priority! I’d say life is pretty high on that list! We could have died! You could have killed somebody! But did you think about that?! No!”  She’s screaming, and you’re waiting for Negan to emerge and scold you all for waking the baby but he never comes, this is your job.

“Hey!” You yell, stepping swiftly in between the two women. It’s an effort to tear Arat away, her fists try to swing but fail, blocked by your arm and in the end, you shove hard and she steps away.

“You were wrong to recommend her! It’s embarrassing! All she did was stand around and fuck things up!” Josie jumps, darting away from Arat’s intimidations.

The familiar spines of anger pull at your skin, parting your lips in a defiant snarl.  But she’s unaffected, and you begin to wonder if there’s something else at play here.  Arat may be angry, but she isn’t stupid. 

“You. Were. Wrong! She doesn’t have what it takes.  Send her back to the god damn floor.”

There’s silence now. Each Saviour waits with bated breath. 

She chips at your restraint, the dark sneer, her narrowed eyes flitting from you to Josie with unrivalled anger.  But her weaponry is no match for yours.

“That’s for me to decide. Me! These are my Saviours. You might run that crew Arat, but I run you.”  You receive a few sharp gasps from the newer Saviours, but the rest are decidedly silent, barely even breathing, even as you close the gap and reach into her space. 

“She made a mistake. It won’t go unpunished Arat.  But she stays.”  That hits a nerve, you watch as every emotion passes her surface until she steps forward, challenging your authority tenfold.

“You think you’re hot shit?” she jerks blonde tips to the side, and rips at your last nerve; “You’re just Negan’s little bitch. You don’t own me.”

There’s a gasp. It comes not from the crowd behind you, but Josie who lets tears fall as the scene moves in slow motion.  White hot anger cracks with the slap that lands expertly at the side of Arat’s face.

“Get the hell outta my _face.”_   She disappears red faced, along with the rest of the Saviours who didn’t need to be asked twice.

The breath that leaves your lips echoes around the empty hallway, you expect Josie to be there still fixed to the wall when you spin around but you’re completely alone.  _What the hell? You should never have gotten out of bed today.._

 

The workers floor is mostly empty at this time of day, most are fighting over scraps of a meagre breakfast or headed to their jobs; but a few have the day off and sit leisurely on the couches from Alexandria. They’re nestled in a makeshift living room, resting against a book shelf and metal lockers that make up a wall. You share a small smile with the workers that sit there, grateful to Gary who in his medical leave had taken to checking off your ‘Sanctuary Improvement List’ makes sure the less able bodied and elderly residents had somewhere comfortable to call home.  As well as the children who run toward the two Ping-Pong tables Negan had put there weeks before. You make a mental note to find Gary and thank him properly, it is the least you could do after unintentionally getting him badly hurt at the hands of Spencer.

Since Negan’s Carson approved house arrest, the weight of the loss of Simon is heavier than ever.  He was efficient, commanding and well liked, not that the workers or Saviours disliked you, but he was always able to get shit done and you, well you always seemed to have a list of shit a mile long! With Dwight and Regina on duty, Gary on medical leave and Arat; hating your guts, you were snowed under and beginning to feel it.

A kind hand steadies you as your vision swims. You admire their fiery hair that swings by your face as they help you to rest at one of the vacant beds.  Looking up and up some more you’re met with a striking vision – she’s ethereal with pale skin and piercing green eyes.  The woman who can’t be much older than you crouches down, her dress pooling delicately around her knees.  It’s strange that you can’t look away, she might be the most beautiful woman in this place and for a second you wonder why she’s here. 

“Are you alright? Of course you’re not, you wouldn’t have stumbled there if you were. Hi, I’m Frankie. You’re the wife, right?”  Her crisp British accent startles you, causing a strange uming noise to dribble out, the flame that blooms in your cheeks must rival her hair but if she catches it she’s too polite to say anything and settles by your side, checking your pulse.

“I’m fine, and it’s Y/N..” Backtracking, you sigh, apologising for the bluntness, Arat’s outburst this morning must have taken more of a tole than you first thought. 

“No worries! Managing this place must be crazy! Sorry, I’m talking too much! Your pulse is a little high—”

“I’d suggest a rest, a meal at least. That would be best Ma’—I mean Y/N! My apologies!”

Eugene flutters in, a multitude of books piled high in his arms.  Frankie smiles warmly, swiping a book from Eugene who blushes furiously. It’s a strange match, and you start to wonder if she’s the reason he’s been so absent over the last weeks. 

You have to leave, there’s stalls to be organised and commissionary to stock and not to mention the state of the kitchen. Rest and a meal is exactly what you need, but by the glum look on Eugene’s face he knows exactly what you’re about to do.

“Thanks for your help, it’s nice to meet you Frankie. But I need to go and you both need to get back to work.” You sigh, rising on shaky legs but are stopped by Frankie’s gentle hand.  She isn’t phased by your tight frown, in fact she’s smiling strangely, it throws you off and you shuffle jerkily and step back. She gives you a small smile, glazing over your body once before nodding and letting you leave.

“Please, try to get some breakfast if you can.”

 

The evening sun pours liquid gold through the grimy windows of the Sanctuary, it illuminates the dining room that’s bustling with life. A day of successful pick-ups and runs treated the workers and Saviours alike to a hearty dinner.  It’s a happy scene – something that has been notably absent since the attack on Negan out on the road.  Pushing off from the balcony you traipse easily down the rickety staircase and on into the dining area, unlike Negan you don’t enjoy the way they scramble to their knees. You’ve never wanted them to fear you, but they don’t know anything other than Negan’s rule and it gets to you.  Putting that niggling thought to the back of your mind, for now, you pick up a tray of dinner refusing extra portions from the kitchen staff.

“Mrs Negan?” 

Jumping like a frightened rabbit you twist, to be greeted by a semi familiar face, though this time sans of blood and tears the girl from weeks prior peeks shyly from behind her dark hair.  The last time you’d seen her Negan had pulled you harshly from the Doctor’s office and that had been it.  A silver slither was all that remained of the incident, it had been months and neither you or Negan had come to any conclusions on who attacked her. 

“Yeah?” You reply, choosing to ignore the strange greeting you plaster on a smile. Your positive response pulls her from her shell and she smiles brightly, handing over another tray.

You stand awkwardly, looking from the tray to your bowl somehow the two don’t go together until they do.

“Oh, I’m sorry I made this.  It’s for your daughter and N-Negan of course”

You’re slightly apprehensive, eyeing the bowl of mashed veggies and Negan’s meal on the small tray suspiciously.  You shuffle from foot to foot unable to muster the courage to tell her you can’t accept it.  Your eyes flick from the tray to her face and each time the delighted expression slides from her delicate features like a dejected child.  Stammering over apologies you begin to feel sick and try to let her down gently.

“I’m sorry, it looks great, it does but I prefer to make our meals myself..”

Instead of being quick to anger or making a scene she just smiles, nodding in understanding.  It’s an unspoken rule around the Sanctuary since Spencer’s transgression that you make every meal and drink that’s given to your family.  You feel bad, that she had made the meal, but a repeat situation isn’t something you were prepared to deal with. 

“It’s okay! I can pass that to the new arrivals in three, they have a baby too!”

Your eyes drop to the floor, unable to look at the neat makeshift bedroom across the floor.  The Saviours had honoured your request for a while, but with the influx of people arriving over the last week it had been impossible to keep Ally’s home vacant.  The weight of their deaths follows you like a black cloud and it rains as you hear the cries of their child. It hurts to know that the second child Ally so desperately wanted could never be and it fills your eyes with unshed tears, they panic the small girl who gawps at your tears apologising over and over.  You rebuff her quickly and excuse yourself without asking her name.

The cooler air of the storage room is a welcomed change to the stagnant aroma of the hall, and it calms your racing heart.

“Calm down..” You whisper, pushing sticky hair from your face.  The air catches cooling sweat and its gross, but you’re distracted and that’s all that matters.  You haven’t grieved, not properly, with the weight of leading and coping with becoming a parent there was never time.  The tears don’t stop, your weak legs give out and you slide ungracefully against a freezer cabinet.  It’s messed up, that you’re laughing through the tears but the last time you were anywhere near this position had been years ago – the first run you went on with Negan.  You remember it well, running in a storm from a heard into the belly of a beast that ran off the road and gave you both scars that are long healed, but it gifted you and Negan with the best gift – one that you’re eager to get back to.

You wipe away tears with the back of your hand, but before you can get up the door swings open;

“Ben? Are you in here?!” She yells, rushing into the store room “Oh! Oh, a-are you alright? Let me help you?”

You recognise her, the tight bun safely secured at the back of her skull doesn’t waver as she helps you to your feet. Her kind eyes scan your body, looking for signs of injury but she comes up empty and smiles, understandably relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with a wound.  You scan her, noting the small tan band aid at her collar bone.  She runs a finger over it, scoffing happily at your quizzical expression;

“Got bit.”

“What?!” you stammer, stepping away from her slightly.

“Oh! Not like that, don’t worry! Come on, you guys need food before the vultures devour it all!”

You both share a laugh and prepare the meal together. It feels strange giggling over the normal things in life, especially after the dark days of late; even her equally as friendly assistant chef joins in. It feels human, nice and for once you enjoy the day.

“Thank you, I think I have the proper authority to give you both the rest of the day off? It’s the least I can do, for your help?” 

Turning from the stove and sink, the two chefs glance between each other, then over your head at the blonde that’s been flittering in and out sporadically throughout the evening.

“Trixie!” 

You watch their exchange, trying not to giggle at the young blonde that sulks royally at her orders to tidy and lock up alone for the evening. 

“Thank you, we appreciate it.”

Looking around, you note the shadows have morphed into dusk and Negan would be waiting, but that thought alone has you fiddling with the walkie that had remained silent at your hip the entire day.  If he really wanted you to come home, he would have said something by now?

With that thought you collar Eugene, who you see has not moved since this morning and gained another giant pile of books that take up a good portion of the couch he lays on. 

“Ahem. Eugene?”  Your voice shocks him from the book, but doesn’t wake Frankie who remains asleep, her bright hair spread over his shoulder.

“Would you take this to my husband, I don’t want it to get cold.” For a moment you feel bad, but move past it quickly, he doesn’t participate much in the running of the place – it’s the least he can do.

“Of course. I believe Josie is on the balcony, nursing her wounds..”

Your eyes connect with his, it’s strange, _he’s_ strange but you both share a smile before parting.  You hope that Negan wouldn’t kick up a fuss about the tray, but he’s most likely got his hands full anyway!

 

It’s unusually warm, even for a Georgia evening, the rise in temperature even influences the Walkers at the fence, they move in slow motion, unenthusiastic movements that make for a muffled lullaby. Though it isn’t alone, a light, airy voice permeates through the chorus of the dead and you follow it quietly.

“Don’t..” Gary’s deep slur pins you to the spot pressed flat up against the warm concrete, just out of sight of Josie who leans over the yellow rail singing into the dark. 

“It helps me, she helps.” It might be quiet, but even so, you have to lean closer to be able to hear him.  He doesn’t look in your eye even now, weeks after.   It turned out that Spencer had drugged him to, before treating his head to a kiss from a silver candle holder; the combination of assaults leaving him with slurred speech and mild tinnitus.  It hurts to watch, the guilt is always there for him, for Harvey, for them all.  But Gary is the start of self-redemption; from then you don’t speak, Josie continues to sing, and no one utters a word, even when she sniffs deeply wiping tears away.

“She will be a good Saviour. Don’t let that little shit tell you otherwise.” Word spreads fast. How can it not!  Gary leaves with a warm smile, giving your cold hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Josie..”

She doesn’t jump, only turns slightly to acknowledge your presence before turning back. She allows you to sit, you had to admit the lack of conversation from a usually chatty Josie threw you off. Trying not to take it personally, you sit and match her position at the railing.

“You might not like it, hell, I don’t like it. But you have to stay on Arat’s crew.” She responds with nothing but a deep sigh, so you continue “This is as much your punishment as it is hers.  You will make a good Saviour, I’ve seen you throw those damn knives! Hell, the first time we met you nearly took my finger off!” It makes you laugh, the memory of it.  She though, says nothing adding to the mounting pressure you were feeling. 

“She’ll cool off, training the new Saviours is a hard job. Try to keep your head down and do your job, okay?” 

Deciding to take her silence as acknowledgement you go to move but are stopped by the crack in her voice.

“I don’t have anyone. I get up, go to work with people that resent me, eat alone and go to sleep alone. I’m lonely.”  It breaks your heart, because once that was you.  Before, you were just a shy woman, much like Josie this world made you, but you can see it breaking her right in front of your eyes. 

“I don’t want to see another one of my friends die.” You breathe, pushing hair away from your face before sliding across to hold her hand.  “There are great people here, you’ll make it. I know it! There’s a rec room down the hall from your room, it’s for the new recruits, I know for a fact Arat won’t be there and it’s less..rowdy than the others.  Go?”

You’re surprised when she smiles, slowly the realisation sets in and she nods taking a deep breath in.

“I will, for me. I can’t be alone anymore, I was a party girl before this!” She laughs, the image makes you giggle and it doesn’t take long before you’re both belly laughing, dragging each other through the hallways in fits.

Most people are already settling down, some stare at the noise and strange vision of Negan’s wife cackling like a drunk housewife but others genuinely smile. 

“They like you. I can see you’re worried about it, you can’t hide it from me girl!” Josie soothes, wrapping a small arm around your shoulders.

You never believed they saw you as anything more than Negan’s wife or after Alexandria, someone to be feared and not the least bit respected.  But now, things have changed. 

Smiling at her words, you sigh deeply;

“Thank you, Josie, now go! Get out there and for goodness sake, change those shoes!”

Just as you were about to let out a laugh, the sharp static of the walkie cuts through like a knife;

“Our kid misses her Mom. Are you comin’ home at all today?”

You both stare at the walkie silently. Sensing the mounting tension, Josie hugs you tight;

“It’ll be okay Y/N, go home..” 

 _Home_. Home is a clusterfuck right now, it hasn’t been the same in a few days your guilt has manifested into a giant mood and neither Negan or Raven has appreciated it much. 

You decide to head home, checking in on Regina and Dwight briefly before reaching your apartment.

 

As soon as the door closes you’re met with a roaring fire, it’s roasting and deadly silent. You decide against looking for Negan and the ache in your bones needs more than the water and bottle of flat sprite that’s in the fridge.  The last time you felt the burn of whisky was long before the world ended, it was less cutting than you imagined and so you allow yourself to indulge in another by the fire, cross-legged and finally absent of the wobbly feeling that had been haunting you all day.

It’s nice to not feel responsible, you’re no-one’s wife, leader or mother in this stolen moment and it’s so relaxing you sink back to lay flat on the fur rug playing absentmindedly with the soft fabric.

“Well, fuck! Look whose home!” Even Negan is puzzled by your position on the floor but is too busy lecturing you on your ‘long ass’ absence.

“Your kid has been fussing all day, I barely got her down!” He rambles on, chucking blankets and empty bottles into the sink as if you care. 

“Doll? Wait, is that a fucking whisky?! Je-sus!” He looms over you, dowsing your body in shadow.

“Well, it’s not water Negan. I’ve had a long day, get off my back.” You snap, Negan raises dark brows and kicks softly at your leg with a socked foot. He carries on bating the bear until you kick back;

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my fucking wife!” He croons, unexpectedly grabbing your leg with a tight grip.

“Negan! Ah! Stop. IT!” You scream, watching the ceiling rip by as you’re pulled around the front room.  You can’t help letting laughs slip through at the sight of the infamous Negan in sweat pants and a stained shirt trotting like a mule around your front room.

“Babe! Come on, shit! I dropped the damn whisky!” Negan was not phased; the bastard was enjoying your distress.

“I was gonna tan your ass for sassing me this morning but this is much more fucking _fun!”_  

He cackles, and you can’t lie that the prospect of him bending you over the couch didn’t have you drooling, but the carpet burn scorching your back is the first thing on your mind and you throw out a hand, catching the rickety leg of Raven’s empty crib.

Negan’s maniacal laughter turns to cursing in a second as the crib you’d been meaning to fix for weeks tumbles down like a house of cards, blanketing your squirming body in broken wood.

It’s silent for a second, through the splinters you watch Negan’s shocked face screw up, confused by your belly laughs. 

“You should have seen your face!” You squeal, trying over again to stand but stomach cramping cackles have you arched at the waist.  His deep frown had dissipated, brows rising in laughter as you both toss the chunks of wood into the fire. 

Negan comes to stand by your side, hip cocked he runs a free hand over the now smooth surface of his cheek.

“I really should have fixed that thing..”

Your small hum catches Negan’s attention causing him to look down to you, but you’re already staring.  His clean-shaven face isn’t a sight you’ve seen in a while, you think for a second longer recalling your first kiss; Him smirking at your shaking hands as they wrapped around the back of his neck. You shook a lot that day, nervous still around the big bad Negan.  When he smiles you’re transported back and it mirrors in your body, trembling hands rise slowly up to stroke gently across Negan’s face.   He looks younger, you shouldn’t giggle, but imagining him cursing up a storm in a room full of children has you grinning like a fool.  The twinkle in your eyes isn’t missed by him, his golden eyes don’t leave yours when he runs dextrous fingers through your hair to cradle the back of your head. 

Leaning forward slowly you avoid his lips, letting your head rest softly at his chest that smells faintly of baby sick, but you don’t mind. All you want to do is be here, in the arms of your husband that’s safe and well.  You blink back the grateful tears and wrap around him, he must know what you need and lets you sway slightly, rocking back and forth with his own frame.  He’s not much of a dancer, but neither are you, but you both make it work swaying in silence to the crackle of the evenings fire.

“I love you so much Negan.” Your voice is muffled by his chest, but the tight squeeze of his hands tells you all you need to know.  This Negan will never leave this room, never would he take your hand and kiss you in front of anyone, part of you resents that side of him the cruel, manipulative leader but that’s okay – you understand, really.  As if sensing your discomfort Negan draws back, pouting his bottom lip in resigned understanding.

“Baby, I love you. You hear me?” You know he cares, that he needs to be that Negan to keep people in line, but you let yourself feel sad anyway.

“I know, can we; can we just be here, us for a little longer?”

Negan reaches forward, cradling your jaw softly in a warm palm. He responds in a loving kiss and you revel in it, enjoying the smooth rub of his chin on yours.   It isn’t long before your hands wander, using your left hand to anchor yourself you slide it up and paw at the warm skin of his back.  His answering fingers bury themselves in the back of your hair, tugging gently he steps forward walking both of you hotly against the wall next to the dwindling fire.  Open mouthed kisses make a path down your neck, only breaking to allow you to divest him of his shirt. 

“Come on babygirl, even the playing field.” He coos, voice like honey. It’s always made you weak, that rich southern drawl could seduce you to slaughter and it releases a roaring fire in your gut.  Your hands play over his arms, the ones that held your child now press you tight to his hot body, cushioning his impressive erection.

You’re both panting in seconds, his targeted kisses turn sloppy and you automatically know what he wants.  Moving from the wall you shed your shirt and almost tackle him down onto the soft fur, Negan obeys without as much as a word.  You grin wolfishly when he groans, shoving off his sweats impatiently waiting to get a glimpse of your strong legs that itch to wrap around him, but Negan has other ideas, stopping you from laying down first he tugs insistently.

“Come and sit on Daddy’s lap girl..”

There it is again, you don’t restrain the moan that has his dick twitching, instead you slow it down, strutting sensually toward Negan who stretches, breathing hot and heavier with every step closer.

He’s whining like a wounded man when you finally stand over him, clad in black lace; the unintentional choice that happened to work just in your favour tonight.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me baby.” His drawl sends you down, sitting heavily in his lap.  You both groan simultaneously at the contact.

His kisses were perfectly aimed, his tongue rubbing against your own in time with the gentle roll of your hips.  The rhythm is almost lost when he leans forward, sitting up into the cage of your arms. This position is more intimate than you’re used to, but it doubles the pressure of his cock rubbing in delicious strokes against your clit that throbs exquisitely. 

“Negan..” A broken whine escapes your lips at his answering thrust, hips tipping up to meet yours.  The friction of the fabric only adds to the pleasure burning its way through your clit, and you pant grinding harder until he breaks:

“Shit—darlin’ you gotta stop before I—”

You can’t stop the broken moan and come hard around nothing, the friction of his hard cock alone had you grasping his hair in a tight fist and he lets you ride it out, watching up at you in awe as you come down and slump lazily in his lap.

“Holy fucking shit. Fuck! Look at you, getting off all by yourself hot damn!”

You’d sass him for mocking you but the urge for more wins out though Negan sees it instantly he doesn’t make a move. 

That’s when he speaks, low and daring the tone alone enough for you to lurch, both hands curling around the top of his underwear.

“You want it, come get it.” He moans, the rest of the sentence cut off by the tight grip of your hand.  He’s already rock hard, smooth and pulsating in your palm, his cock begs to dip into your warmth but you hold off, enjoying the luxuriously deep moans that tear from between his teeth. 

“Fuck! Don’t do this shit to me Doll! I haven’t been balls deep in so long honey...”  His foul mouth would turn any body off, but not you. It doubles the slick that cools in the colder air and you’re grazing the razor edge of another orgasm but stop just as he pulsates.  It angers your husband who pants like a raging bull.  His hands grab and haul your naked body forward until you’re bare ass is flush with his cock and you moan out loud, grinding just a little before Negan is fed up of your teasing and pulls you up. Without warning he slides you down slowly growling so loud you’re afraid Raven would wake but she doesn’t, thank goodness. 

Your pussy’s dripping, finally satiated wrapping his cock in velvet muscle that welcomes him just as your arms do, cradling Negan’s head on its journey down your chest.  The sensations of his tongue and plunging cock are almost too much to bare and by now the whole of the floor must know.  You know most of them are too polite to say anything, so you decide to give them something to hear, it’s Negan who’s vocal tonight, growling and groaning when you clench at a purposefully hard thrust that catches your g-spot perfectly.

“Ohh, oh fuck!” You whine high, digging the nails of your hand into Negan’s thighs.  More cries spill out when Negan ruts forward, and you try to raise yourself a little from his cock but he pulls you back down with a quick reprimand.

“Ah, babygirl, Daddy makes the rules now. You had your fun.”  The seriousness keeps you still, his apple cider eyes root you to the spot but naughtily you move a hand to relieve the throb in your clit – the ache getting worse by the second and Negan lingers a little too long for your liking.

“Negan, you better fuck me now or I swear..”

That’s when he loses control, answering your demand with a guttural groan. His strong hands grip tight to your hips, holding hard and in place as he fucks your plump, sopping pussy without respite.

“Jesus, I’m gonna come! Negan..fuck!” You cry, knowing just how much he loves to hear it.

“look at me.” Negan growls, sharply stopping his hips as punishment for your closed eyes. Your damp body and dripping pussy is food for Negan’s eyes and it drives him on more. He reaches for your clit and the change of position has you clamping around him ripping the most gut wrenching moan.  You almost cum, he can feel it and rams upward once more.

The heat that burns it’s way through your body is dowsed in ice when Negan suddenly, has other ideas and almost instantly you’re faced with the damp rug and Negan’s wet mouth dragging up your back, placing small kisses between flat licks of his tongue which leave you whimpering and even wetter than before, the throbbing in your pussy is too much to bear.

"Stay still girl.." He groans leaning forward even more. 

"Ready?"  Negan’s whisper turns into rich laughter against the shell of your ear.  Answering with a pathetic whine you use your left hand to reach round, grasping Negan’s arm to pull him flush against your ass. 

" _Ohhh.._  Daddy fuck, please, fuck me.." The words tear out, the use of that name seems to spur Negan into action and he thrusts into you with an ungraceful curse.  

Both hands rip at the fur rug, screaming out through gritted teeth. Your mouth dropping open as a warm rough hand creeps slowly up your back to shove your top half into the cushions.

It's overwhelming and too much to handle but you love it, meeting his thrust with your ass over and over again to the point of tears. 

"Feel that?" Negan murmurs, his tongue brushing the blushed spaced behind your ear.  He knows it makes you crumble, every time.

"God you should see how you're takin' me sweetheart!” 

"I'm coming. Negan!   _Fuck I'm coming.."_  

"I wanna see you come.   _Shit, Y/N!”_ Immediately, he picks up the pace, chasing his own release, watching yours.  With only a few thrusts he comes deep inside you with a strangled cry on his lips.

You both flop back, panting and sweating into the fur but you don’t care, you let Negan clean you up gently, disappearing to grab towels and an assortment of foods from the small kitchen.  Apparently, you’d both worked up quite an appetite and devour the food in record time.

He’s wrapped up naked and glorious in your white sheet, your husband, your hot husband, safe and well and—

“Negan.” You pause, turning softly in his lazy arms “You won’t ever leave me, will you?”

You don’t know where it came from, some place deep inside you suppose. Negan though is barely conscious, thoroughly fucked and exhausted. 

It takes a lot for you not to wake him, to seek validation but you couldn’t bare to see him anything but content, so instead you pull on his sweats and shirt, both miles too big but they smell of him and it lulls you into the soundest of sleeps, happy and safe at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments mean the world xx
> 
> Tumblr: ArtemisXEros


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